The Gypsy's Daughter
by CaptainBluntschli
Summary: A new friend keeps the spirit of Narnia alive for Peter when he can no longer return...or so he thought. In this tale of friendship, adventure, war, and love, things aren't often what they seem.
1. Chapter 1: The Beginning of Two Breaks

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**Author's note:** This story begins between Prince Caspian and the Voyage of the Dawn Treader and will go through up until The Last Battle. Not only does it draw from the books, but it keeps movieverse in mind (just for subtle details)

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Chapter 1

The Beginning of Two Breaks

Summer was emerging and the children flooding from the trains wore smiles on their faces and skipped happily from the station, throwing their luggage to-and-fro while hastily planning all of the fun things that were to be done over the break. All were jovial, except Susan and Lucy Pevensie. Instead, they were both fighting tears—Susan holding it back more stoically than her younger sister. Three boys were huddled together, telling cruel jokes at the girls' expense, just as cruel children do when they feel inhibited and bored. It would be unkind and inappropriate to repeat what the boys had said, but suffice it to say, had someone said the same to you, you would feel like crying as well.

Ignoring the torment the best that they could, Susan held Lucy's hand and dragging their trunks behind them, they hurried to the tree in the park nearby the station (a place in which they had designated as a meeting point with their brothers had they not all found each other sooner). Unfortunately, the bullies had followed them, and Susan began to regret leading them away from the crowded station into a more secluded area where there were leaves and twigs that mean boys could throw. The boys were sly enough not to be noticed, but by time Susan and Lucy reached their meeting place, both sisters had plenty of debris to fish from each other's hair.

The boy leading the pack bent over and picked up a stone, and while the others laughed (with a laugh particularly reminiscent of wild hyenas), he playfully tossed the stone from hand to hand as he pointed at Susan, muttering something incredibly unpleasant.

Just as Susan was about to push Lucy behind the tree to shield her, an unfamiliar voice interrupted the assault.

"Don't you lot have anything better to do?"

Stepping in as a barrier between them, a girl in Susan's year (who both Susan and Lucy recognized but had never spoken to) stood there bravely and crossed her arms. "Well?" she said to the boys with a furrow of her brow.

"Hah! What are you going to do about it?" the boys snickered and they began to howl like dogs at her. While their efforts to mock her achieved a subtle quiver of her lip, she stayed unwavering in a protective stance.

"Leave them alone at once…or else!" she stammered trying to sound intimidating.

The girl had succeeded in thwarting the attack on Susan and Lucy, but now it was clear that she had become the new target. The boy with the stone wound up to throw, but before he could aim, his concentration was interrupted again by a distant shouting and he had missed striking the girl completely.

Peter and Edmund had been on their way to the meeting tree and caught wind of the commotion, dropping their bags on the ground as they ran to the aid of their sisters. Startled, all three boys turned their heads to see the pair of brothers rushing towards them.

Trying not to seem shaken, the lead boy faked a laughed as he turned to address the girls and said, "Oh! I'm so sca…"

But the boy failed to finish his sentence because just as he had whipped his head around, the girl with the furrowed brow had thrust her fist right into his nose. Everyone had gasped—all but the girl, of course. Even Peter and Edmund (who at this point were only steps away from the scuffle) stopped in their tracks. The boy put his hands to his face sobbing, "Oh I think it's broken! She's broken my nose!" and he only remained standing because his friends were holding him up on either side.

"Serves you right! Now, go on! Git!" the girl shouted with confidence.

"Aw! It's not worth it anyway!" the boys exclaimed. But once they were a fair distance away, one shouted back, "This proves she's a loon! And her mother must've been a witch—only a witch could raise such a demon girl!"

Flabbergasted, the girl clenched her fists and tripped over her words in frustration, only managing to shout back a poorly versed, "Oh! Why you…!"

And with that, all four Pevensie siblings stared at the girl with a combination of excitement, befuddlement, and horror. As I had mentioned before, both Lucy and Susan recognized the girl, but neither had ever talked to her. The same was true for Peter and Edmund. Everyone knew of Judith Chauncy and how odd she was and how she never spoke unless spoken to (and who would want to speak to her anyway?). And everyone had heard the stories that her mother was a witch, and she was a witch too, and that she had missed a year of school because she was locked away in the insane asylum. But this is the first time any of the Pevensies had actually met her, and while she didn't seem as weird as the stories had made her out to be (she looked a little different, but not the bad kind of different—both Edmund and Peter agreed later on that she was actually quite pretty in a "different" sort of way), they were all conflicted to whether they were impressed by her courage or off put by her brute actions (although once again, both Edmund and Peter agreed later on that her punch had fantastic form).

Sickened by the silence, Judith let out a disappointed sigh and walked away. Suddenly, Lucy perked up out of the daze that had spread over them all and exclaimed, "But we never said thank you!" And she ran after Judith waving her arms and shouting for her to wait.

"No! Lu! Don't!" Peter hollered after his youngest sister, but there was no use. Knowing Lucy's credulous disposition, the three remaining Pevensie siblings looked at one another through the corners of their eyes and followed shortly behind.


	2. Chapter 2: The Necklace

Chapter 2

The Necklace

It would be an understatement to say that Judith was surprised to find Lucy running to catch up with her, but if you had been treated as Judith always had, you'd understand why she was skeptical. Nevertheless, she allowed Lucy to walk besides her, only glancing down at her periodically with suspicion. But Lucy was persistent and engaged her in conversation anyway.

"Thank you so very much!" Lucy said cheerfully. "I mean it, I really do!"

There was a moment of stale silence between them until Judith uttered a flat "You're welcome".

Unable to leave it at that, Lucy added, "Those boys were dreadful…but you sure took care of them! It was amazing!"

Pausing mid-step, Judith turned to look at Lucy and in disbelief, a half-smile wiped across her face. "Really?"

"Yes, really!" Lucy replied.

"Because I thought I had just embarrassed myself…"

"Oh no! Don't think that," Lucy assured her. "It's those awful boys who are really embarrassed! Did you see how they ran off with their tails between their knees?"

They both shared a laugh and at that moment Lucy thought it were silly that anyone would avoid talking to Judith just because of some nonsense rumors they had heard.

Meanwhile, Susan, Peter, and Edmund had caught up with Lucy and Judith (and luckily for Peter and Edmund, they had been able to pick up the bags they had dropped along the way). Lucy gave the proper introductions, although her older siblings were still a bit wary. Everyone smiled politely, except for Susan who's pride was a bit tarnished by the rescue.

"Aren't you afraid you're going to get into trouble?" Susan asked seriously.

Judith shrugged her shoulders. "No. I don't suppose they'll tell anyone what happened."

Susan wasn't convinced. "How can you be so sure?

"Because no boy in Finchley would ever admit to being beaten up by a girl!" Edmund interjected with a lighthearted chuckle.

"Exactly!" Judith smiled, and everyone laughed at the thought of the bully with the bloodied nose trying to explain his injury. And as they laughed, they walked on, discussing the endless possibilities of ridiculous fabrications the bully would tell others—the more outlandish, the better (the best coming from Edmund who had suggested that the bully could say he had fought a bear that had nestled itself in the underground station to hibernate).

Then suddenly Judith stopped and looked about the others with mistrust. "What are you all walking with me for?"

Peter found it to be a silly question and replied, "Um, we are accompanying you on the walk since it is on our way."

"Oh," Judith blushed. She was afraid she had come off foolish, but no one from school had ever bothered walking with her anywhere for any reason.

Everyone was at ease and enjoying the walk until something possessed Lucy to ask something awful. At least Susan, Peter, and Edmund thought it was an awful thing to ask, but Lucy had felt so comfortable that the question slipped out of her mouth the moment it popped into her head: "Is your mother really a witch?"

It was a burning question that everyone wanted to ask, especially the Pevensies since they had actually met a real witch (and deep within in them they all needed to know because in their experience, real witches are things to be avoided). Despite their curiosity, the elder siblings found the question to be impolite and hardly a moment after it rolled off of Lucy's tongue Peter scolded her for being rude.

It was clear that the question made Judith uncomfortable because she averted her eyes, reached within her collar, and began fiddling around with a necklace that had been tucked under her blouse. But instead of becoming angry (as they all suspected she would), she slid the charm on her necklace back and forth on the chain nervously and answered. "No. Not exactly. Well…it's complicated. I'm not a witch if that's what you're wondering…"

And while it was not a straightforward answer, they all decided to leave it at that for the time being. Besides, they had all been distracted by her necklace. It was a beautiful gold pendant engraved with an intricate knot of what appeared to be serpents and birds. Despite looking very old, the gold possessed a warm glow that captivated them all.

"What a lovely charm!" Susan exclaimed. (Half from curiosity and the other half out of wanting to change the subject.)

"Oh," Judith gasped realizing that in her anxiety she had nearly knotted the delicate chain. "Thank you…it's a family heirloom."

Peter scrutinized the pendant the best he could without gawking. "What does it mean?"

Judith ran her thumb over the engraving and replied sincerely, "I don't know exactly. From what I've gathered I think it means 'all life is intertwined.'"

Just then, she realized that they had been standing outside of her front gate. The Pevensies realized it too, and they were surprised to see how very, very large her house was (because all of the rumors failed to mention that her family was very rich—but this is a detail that will be discussed at a later time). So Judith thanked them for the company and said her goodbyes solemnly, as she was glad to have made some new friends, but very sad to have to leave them so soon. Lucy, Edmund, Peter, and even Susan waved through the gate with smiles until Judith disappeared within the house.

"Come now," Peter said with authority. "Mother will be expecting us and I can't wait to put down my luggage."

Now that Judith was gone, the excitement of strange new company faded, and the four Pevensies became aware of the bulk they had been dragging the entire time.

Susan groaned. "I thought we were supposed to take a cab…"

"But we've had a lovely walk, haven't we?" Lucy commented trying to keep spirits high.

"Sure," Edmund sighed, as he heaved his trunk forward.

They were all very glad to be home after a long day and they spent the evening with their parents, sharing stories and enjoying their time together before going to bed (if you're familiar with the Pevensie children's story, you know that this is the summer they disband and have their own adventures). And although they were very tired, Lucy and Susan quietly climbed out of their beds and snuck into brothers' room to say goodnight once again, but more importantly to remark on Judith's necklace.

"Do you think…?" Lucy asked with great wonder.

"I doubt it," Susan replied crossly. "It's silly to even think of it."

Edmund straightened up in offense. "It's not silly! I had thought the very same thing. So has Peter!"

"I've never seen gold in _this_ world that ever shimmered as bright as that pendant. Only Narnian gold shines like that," Peter said very frankly. "Although I don't recognize the symbol on it. It's very peculiar."

Lucy toppled onto Peter's bed in excitement. "Oh, by the Lion! What a mystery!"

Susan shook her head with disapproval. "I've had enough of this nonsense and I refuse to speak of it any longer." And with a sour look upon her face, she stormed out of the room.

Lucy looked heartbroken, but Edmund gave her a nod in support. Peter put his arm around her lovingly, wiped a tear from her eye, and gently said, "Perhaps we shouldn't speak of this anymore. Things have a way of unfolding on their own when they're good and ready."


	3. Chapter 3: A New Friend

Chapter 3

A New Friend

For the very few summer days that they had together, Lucy, Edmund, and Peter spent almost every waking hour with Judith (Susan was far too busy readying herself for her trip to America and the others concluded that she didn't care much for Judith anyway). Their new friend had many strange quirks, most of which were endearing, but seemed to be fuel to the fire of many rumors. Firstly, Judith preferred old things. Despite being very rich, she despised the thought of stiff new clothes and even though rather unfashionable, she always wore her favorite pair of tired, brown, riding boots. Her love for aged things did not only apply to her possessions, but to almost everything around her. She would often run her hands over old stone buildings and ask, "How old do you think this stone is?" and "How far do you think it had to travel from its quarry to get here?" and she often wondered about all the things old stone had seen.

Judith seemed to find life in everything. She would always ask trees permission before climbing them and would always thank them for the shade. And she spoke to animals as though they could understand her, and listened thoroughly to their calls in return. Most people saw this behavior as foolish or they would conclude that Judith was mad—but Peter, Lucy, and Edmund loved this quirk the most as it gave them all an extraordinary sensation in their hearts because it reminded them of the place where trees would wake and animals could talk.

Although they liked many things about Judith, there were also things that they did not like. She had a quick temper and when she was angry she became rather arrogant. Lucy hated this the most; Edmund found great humor in it; Peter could justify it and knew that once she had calmed she was quick to apologize.

They all had become great friends in a short amount of time, but Judith and Peter spoke more readily since they were the same age and had a lot more in common than anyone would think. And while the Pevensie family had Judith over for dinner every night (she proved to be so gracious and polite that Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie found her to be a delight), none of the children were ever invited past Judith's front gate. But no one ever complained—after all, her very large house was inhabited by two very strict, selfish, and spiteful people that never approved of anything past what was practical.

This, in turn, leads into Judith's history and explains why she is the way she is and how she was able to do what she was eventually meant to do. Now the only person, (other than Judith herself) who knows and understands her story in its entirety, is Peter. It was a venture lasting many moments, days, months, and years, but he took great care to know it all because in due time it becomes part of his story as well. And as we had already established, all life is intertwined.


	4. Chapter 4: The Gypsy Princess

Author's note: I struggled with this chapter because the information is important for character development, but I don't know if it is all entirely relevant for readers. I think it's one of those things that will remain a "maybe" until the story is presented as a finished whole and if needed it can be edited out.

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Chapter 4

The Gypsy Princess

Judge Chauncy and his wife Mary lived in the very large house within the gates that the Pevensie children didn't dare pass (in fact, Peter was the only one to step foot into that house and it was only once when he had grown into a young man). The Judge was an intelligent, intimidating man that knew everything about everything regarding social justice. However, he knew nothing about anything regarding social tact. While not entirely disagreeable, he could insult anyone he came in contact with just because he didn't know any better. On the other hand, his wife Mary knew better than anyone, but she was just a despicable person that was only happy (if you could call that happiness) when other people were miserable. But unlike her husband's naive offenses, Mary's specialties were backhanded comments and the manipulation of other people's personal affairs.

Let it be known and always remember that Mary is not Judith's mother. There was nothing that angered Judith more than when ignorant people assumed that Mary was her mother. It was painful enough for Judith to call her "Stepmother" and because the Judge was a very busy man, Mary had supreme rule over the very large house and anyone who lived in it. This was very bad luck for Judith, as Mary hated her stepdaughter and never hesitated to berate, belittle, and break her spirit. In hindsight, Judith speculated that every last nasty rumor could be traced back to her awful stepmother.

No one would blame you if you had assumed that Mary was the witch in the infamous rumors. Stepmothers in fairy tales often are portrayed as witches, but to the contrary, Mary had a flawless façade and was well liked by acquaintances. Most people in passing knew her only as "that delightful woman that puts up with a belligerent husband and a loony stepdaughter (bless her heart!)" Judith's birth mother was really the witch. Not so much a witch, but a Gypsy. To close-minded people, anyone possessing any kind of magic is a witch—but you and I know better and so we will call her a Gypsy.

Judith's mother was no ordinary Gyspy. She was the enchanting Vadoma Vadim, the Gypsy Princess. The title may sound impressive, but in these modern times, Vadoma owned no more than her fellow nomads except for the title itself. However, the title was invaluable to her people because it meant her linage could be traced back to the founders of her clan. Judith often imagined that way back in the olden times the Gypsy entourage paraded though countries in golden caravans like royalty. Anyone that knows anything about gypsies may laugh at the idea, but Vadoma's clan was of a different breed than the other nomadic cultures. There is evidence to suggest that these Gypsies had been established far before the others had and originated in an entirely different place. And in such times of war and desperation, fortune shined upon her people. The trees seemed to thicken to conceal their camps and the wind always covered up their tracks.

When Judith's father was a young law clerk, he had a brief adventurous streak and journeyed across Europe to "enjoy the foreign scenery and earn diplomatic propriety." While on this trip, he met Vadoma and he yearned for her affections. Vadoma was proud and a bit selfish, and in a fleeting moment she decided that she no longer wanted to endure the hardships of traveling. Paying her family a generous endowment, the young clerk took his new bride back to England to be a "proper" wife. They were happy for a good number of years, but the corruption of politics and power usurped the future Judge and made him egotistical, if not mean-spirited. And although Vadoma tried very hard to be a "proper" wife and mother, she missed the woods, the road, and the everlasting search. And when she found that her magic had all dried up, her heart broke.

The Judge tried everything to placate his wife, and he even bought her a country cottage where she and Judith could live in peace away from the city. And while this appeased her for several years, Vadoma had turned into a shadow of a woman and longed to be with the Gypsies once again. Knowing she would die if she couldn't return, she pleaded with her husband to let her take Judith and reunite with her true family. Having no energy left to handle his disgrace of a "proper" wife, he agreed to let her go without a struggle—the only condition being that she leave their daughter with him to be "properly" raised. Vadoma knew that Judith would be better off with civility and wealth, and so she kissed her daughter goodbye and promised to write her letters every day. Upon the advice of his mistress (none other than the meddling Mary), Judge Chauncy had his former wife legally declared as deceased so he could marry again without staining his reputation.

Although Vadoma kept her promise and wrote to Judith every day, Mary burned many of the letters in secret. When word came that the Gypsy Princess had actually passed into the next world, Judge Chauncy's heart softened for a mere moment, and he allowed his daughter to venture out with her Gypsy family to attend the funeral (but more importantly, to enjoy the foreign scenery and earn diplomatic propriety). And this is the true reason why Judith had missed an entire year of school.


	5. Chapter 5: A Change in Scenery

Chapter 5

A Change in Scenery

This is the part of the story where the Pevensie siblings separate and have their own adventures. Their mother and father were packed and on the way to America, taking Susan along for the holiday. Lucy and Edmund were forced to stay with their Uncle Harold and Aunt Alberta. Peter had exams to study for and Professor Kirke had offered to coach him. This meant that Peter was to be staying at the quaint country cottage where the Professor currently lived. Judith was stricken with such grief to find that all of her new friends were leaving. But when Peter gave her the Professor's post address (with a familiar assurance that he would write every day), her spirits lifted when she took note of the town's name.

"My Aunt and Uncle own a horse farm in the same county…" she remarked.

"Really?" Peter smiled. "Do you think you could visit? I'm sure to get bored of my studies very quickly."

Judith was overjoyed. She was certain her Aunt would welcome her visit as she and her mother used to help train the horses. But not wanting to seem too eager, she swallowed her excitement and replied, "I'll see…"

It's a strange occurrence when things change only for a short amount of time and how foreign life can feel once they return to normal. Judith had a miserable week back in her old life. The only difference was the anticipation of the post. Peter had kept his word and wrote every day (actually, he was unable to write on Wednesday and so he sent two letters on Thursday). In his letters he would write things such as, "I passed an old stone well today" or "I found the most peculiar crabapple tree" and he would always end these statements with, "I'm sure it has the most fascinating stories to tell us once you get here." The truth of the matter was that Peter felt a sense of liberation and more like a forgotten self when he allowed himself to pretend that the nature in England had a living spirit.

The next week Judith joined her Aunt at the farm and spent most of the days at Professor Kirke's cottage. You might be inclined to think that a professor would grow quite annoyed at the idea of a student's friend making daily visits, and it is somewhat true in this case because Professor Kirke was concerned that Judith would be nothing more than a distraction. But Judith insisted that she could help Peter review for exams and to his surprise, she proved to be a great resource--she already knew the material frontwards and backwards and then some! (Judith had plenty of time to read and study before she met the Pevensies.) She was best versed in History and Classical Studies, but Professor Kirke noted that she was dreadful at Mathematics and insisted that she step down from her role as teaching assistant and practice her Algebra alongside Peter.

Peter was quick to retain information and Professor Kirke had no intention of keeping him locked up for the holiday, and so after mornings of rigorous reviews, the afternoons could be spent playing games and exploring the outdoors. Judith seemed to blossom in the country and while Peter had found her incredibly awkward and eccentric in the city, in the open air and woodlands she became unbelievably elegant. He thought of how strange his siblings would look at him had he had a chance to tell them this.

One day Judith arrived late and missed the morning lesson. Peter waited down by the main road and when Judith finally turned up, he noticed that she seemed distracted and distant—much like the cold, sour-faced version of Judith of their first meeting. He knew something was askew and even though he tried to be rational, he ultimately feared that he had unwittingly done something to lose her trust (a trust that was incredibly difficult to obtain!)

"You seem out of sorts today, Jude…" Peter warily observed.

Judith sighed, and a moment later she dryly replied. "Have I ever had any sorts to be out of?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm just saying, you seem like there's something on your mind."

"There is. There's something I need to tend to…I received an interesting message through wire this morning, but I don't know what to make of it."

"Oh…" Peter groaned. He could only assume the worst and so he was sure that Judith's stepmother had made some dramatic excuse to force her home.

They walked side by side without speaking. The only sounds between them were the thud of their steps on the dirt path and rhythmic zipping noise of Judith's necklace as she nervously slid the pendent along its chain. Peter learned that whenever Judith did this, she was trying to word something very difficult in her head.

"Peter…" she finally said. "Do you know how to ride a horse?"

Peter was surprised to be asked such an innocent question after such a thick tension. "Yes, of course!" he answered without thinking. A moment later he realized that he wasn't completely sure if his equestrian skills would translate into _this _world. "Well, I think so…it has been a long time…"

"Do you think the Professor would mind if you skipped his lesson tomorrow and went riding for the day?"

"It can't hurt to ask…" replied Peter, who at this point was feeling rather puzzled.

"I've worked out the trip all this morning," she began. "We'll have to leave at dawn to be back before the sun sets. That should give us plenty of time to be casual and make sure the horses don't overexert themselves. We will we riding most of the day, and so timing will really depend on how long you can tolerate being up on a horse. If things take longer than anticipated, we could always set up camp, but I think it would be difficult justifying why I've kept the horses out all night."

Peter listened to her plan thoroughly, but he had many questions. "Where will we be going?" he asked with uneasy chuckle under his breath.

"To the woods north of here," Judith answered concisely.

"What for?"

"_Zip, zip, zip…_" The sound of Judith's necklace replaced her voice.

"It's hard to explain," she sighed. "I have to meet someone there. I can make the trip by myself if you don't want to come."

"Oh no, I do..." Peter assured her with a gracious nod.

"Then I can try to explain along the way."


	6. Chapter 6:In Which Peter Feels Nostalgic

Chapter 6

In Which Peter Feels Nostalgic

Peter had trouble falling asleep that night. He had gone to bed early knowing that he would have to be up and ready by dawn, but thus far he had found himself lying awake in the dark. He was far too excited to sleep. The idea of venturing out into unknown territory and a rendezvous in the woods thrilled him and regardless of how mundane the trip might be (it was only a day trip, after all) it made him feel important. His head filled with questions and he wondered why Judith wouldn't tell him any details, and what she had planned, and if anyone else were to come along, and if he would feel like home on horseback again, and if the horses really could talk once you got them away from civilization, and if they were going to run into any danger along the way, and, and, and…

It was still dark when Peter woke the next morning. He stared up at the ceiling, stretched out his limbs, and yawned a deep yawn that turned into a smile. He thought he remembered dreaming of Narnia where he wasn't just Peter Pevensie, but he was Peter the Magnificent—and as vivid as he had once lived them, those memories were just dreams now, and they were dreams that were often forgotten back in England. This didn't anger him the way it once had. He had accepted the fact that he would never return to Narnia and he had made his peace with the idea that he'd never be a king in this world, but he knew there would always be a sentimental yearning. As bittersweet as it felt, he was happy to have it. He imagined that without it he would become a stranger to himself.

Peter readied himself quickly and quietly. He tucked his trousers into the black riding boots the Professor lent him (they were a nice fit and he was glad the Professor offered to lend them), and slipped on his cloth cap, adjusting the brim just right. Professor Kirke was up already to watch the sun rise when Peter wandered into the kitchen. They exchanged morning greetings and the old man beckoned Peter to sit, pointing at a plate of toast with jam.

"Don't you look dapper," Professor Kirke smiled. "I haven't seen you carry your head that high since you tumbled out of the Wardrobe. Remember, you're only going on a day riding trip—not hunting stags or charging at giants."

They both laughed and Peter shrugged his shoulders playfully, but when he spoke his voice filled with nostalgia. "It's silly to say, but I feel very much that way. It's nonsense, I know, but…"

"No boy, it's not nonsense," the Professor assured him becoming a bit nostalgic himself. "Ah, I remember what it was like going out in the woods and hoping my horse would sprout wings. It fades with time, but the enchantment will always linger…even when you become as old as I am. I'm just happy to hear you haven't forgotten it completely."

"I thought that I had," Peter admitted. "But lately everything reminds me of Narnia."

Professor Kirke peered over the brim of his glasses. "That doesn't surprise me…especially with Narnian gold hanging around your friend's neck."

Peter almost jumped to his feet. "So you think so, too! Lucy, Edmund, and I swore it was Narnian gold but Susan thinks we're daft. Do you recognize the symbol on it?"

"No, I'm afraid not," he said shaking his head regrettably. "I suspect that the gold was melted down and formed into the charm it is now…it doesn't have the same craftsmanship of Dwarfs."

Then Professor Kirke looked Peter straight in eye. "I know what you want me to tell you. You want to know if I think Judith has been to Narnia. Peter, if she had been, you would know."

The excitement within Peter disappeared. "I know. It's just that Judith makes me feel like I've never left Narnia."

"I see," Professor Kirke smiled. "Narnia brought the best out of you, didn't it?"

Peter nodded his head.

"Well, there are very special friends that can do the very same. You're lucky to have found one."


	7. Chapter 7: The Commencement

Chapter 7

The Commencement of a Very Important Journey

Judith arrived with two roan Arabian mares, riding atop one and leading the other along her side. They were magnificent creatures that held their heads arched high and as the sun crept from the horizon, the glow of the morning made Peter think that Judith looked like the goddess Athena (studying Classics puts these types of thoughts into your head).

She gracefully slipped from her horse and met Peter with a smile as he approached.

"Introductions are in order," she declared, placing her hands affectionately on the horses' faces. "Peter, this is Raina and Louka."

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintances," Peter said extending his hand to pet them.

Judith began adjusting the saddle and pack on Raina. "I've brought enough food and water to last us the day (and the night if necessary) and I know these horses well. We've had a good long talk on the ride over here, and Raina shouldn't give you any problems."

As Peter was about to hoist himself up onto the horse, Judith held down his shoulder and whispered in his ear, "She can be a bit high strung and let me know if she takes the bit in her teeth."

He nodded, hopping into the saddle with ease and grabbing the reins as though he had learned how to ride before he could walk. Judith seemed impressed with his obvious skill, and as soon as she mounted her horse, she playfully winked at Peter and Louka sped off down the road.

"Come on, Raina. Let's show them what we're made of," shouted Peter as the horse took heed of the command and raced after their companions.

The morning ride was filled with racing spurts and leisurely walks. Even though Peter had remembered how to ride as well as he ever had, his body seemed to forget and became very sore. It was decided that he would have to take periodic breaks leading Raina on foot if he were to last for the entire day. Judith's breaks were less frequent (she knew how to ride sidesaddle and would change positions to prevent from stiffening), but as the day progressed she would hop down from her saddle whenever she noticed Peter doing the same.

It was during these walks that Peter learned about Judith's Gypsy heritage and how her mother taught her to listen to the songs of the wind and the stories in the stones—and her mother gave her those gifts before they parted so that Judith would never be alone. For anyone who has ever experienced anything, it is well known that the memories of happy times seem to fade and become like far away dreams, but the cruelty of life often remains vivid and unforgotten. And so the Gypsy's daughter could never fully remember the time she had spent with her mother, but whenever she reminisced, her eyes filled with stars and her swelling soul longed to feel that peace again. Peter's heart ached and in that moment he wanted to divulge everything about Narnia, but when he went to speak, his tongue froze, leaving only a silent sigh behind.


	8. Chapter 8: The Cartographer

Chapter 8

The Cartographer and his Atlas

Along the horizon, the young riders could see a stretch of dense trees. Judith examined the sky and then gazed out into the beyond. She called over to Peter with fret, "Those are the woods there. We must hurry…I'm afraid we're late."

With a swift kick, Judith and Louka galloped forward in haste. Raina sped after them, and for a brief moment Peter closed his eyes and imagined he was leading a gallant charge. If he didn't know any better, he could have sworn he felt the sword Rhindon at his side and he flung his hand clumsily to his waist. The sudden disproportion at the reins startled Raina and Peter nearly toppled off of her. Humiliated at his carelessness (he really should have known better), he decided to push all thoughts of Narnia to the far corners of his mind and declared, "I'll not think of Narnia once more!"

The forest seemed as ordinary as any forest, but as they ventured through the woods, Peter noticed the most peculiar thing. At first he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him because the branches seemed to welcome Judith within and seal shut after she passed, nearly closing before Raina could make it all the way through (and although Peter concluded that the branches only looked that way since they were riding at great speed, he decided it would be best to keep on Louka's heels…just in case).

They soon came to a widened path that led to a clearing. As they rode towards it, Peter noticed a rusty pick-up truck parked beside the brush and leaning against the truck was the figure of a man. As they approached, the man didn't move—he stayed in his same stance, his arms tightly hugged against his chest and his head fiercely lifted in the air.

"You're late," he growled through a thick-throated Slavic accent. "Though it is no surprise. You were never good at reading the sky."

Judith dismounted and walked towards him. Peter followed her lead and slipped off of his saddle, letting Raina graze alongside Louka. The man looked at Peter suspiciously, eying him from head to toe with a piercing gaze. Peter returned the gaze, but only in wonder at the strangeness the man possessed. It would be dreadfully difficult to describe every minute detail about this stranger, but I trust that if given a few brief descriptions and the liberty to imagine, you'd be able to paint a picture of the sort of fellow that they encountered. He had a jagged face and a sharp crooked nose that looked as though it had been broken many times. His hair was dark and disheveled and he had a sparse shaggy beard, but more impressive was the thick, wooly mustache covering his upper lip—and although the man appeared unpolished, the tips of his mustache were delicately curled.

Addressing Judith once more, he broke his stare. "I thought you were coming alone."

"Change of plans," she scoffed. "Where did you get that truck?"

"I took it," he replied bluntly.

"Fernes, you take too much…"

At this, the man smiled (revealing several gold teeth) and outstretched his arms to which Judith replied with a grin as he grabbed her firmly and held her against his chest in what must have been a terribly uncomfortable hug to endure. Despite the coarseness of it all, they both laughed and the man became much more casual, draping his arm across Judith shoulders and raising an eyebrow towards Peter.

"Peter," Judith said as she nodded with assurance. "This is my cousin, Fernes. He was my guide along my travels."

Fernes extended his calloused hand and when Peter shook it, he held back a grimace as he felt the Gypsy's hardened pads rub against his palm.

"Aha! Pyotr! Peter the Great, is it?" he bellowed in a laugh.

Peter faked a smile. "Nice to meet you, sir."

"Let me tell you something…" Fernes winked, clasping his hand onto Peter's and pointing his finger in the air. "Be a real man! I see you want to be real man. I tell you secret—real men are few. In the old days, a man was not considered to be grown until he traveled over highest hills and sailed the seven seas. If you want to be real man, you must see the world and know it well!"

As uncomfortable as he felt, Peter found the Gypsy captivating and the words he spoke struck a chord that reverberated down into Peter's core.

"That's enough," Judith sighed. "That same old speech is getting tired."

Fernes let go of Peter's hand and crossed his arms. "That same old speech is my father's words. And his father before him. And so on. That tired speech has kept our people going since we first wandered from our Motherland."

"Alright, alright," she pacified him. "I trust that you haven't called me all the way here just to recruit another adventurer?"

"No, but there is always need for more adventurers," he replied with a greedy smile. "Now down to business…have you brought your amulet?"

Judith removed her necklace from around her neck and handed it to Fernes. To Peter's surprise, Fernes pulled out a talisman of his own—a sister to Judith's pendant, but with designs of beasts within the knot pattern. He held them together and the shine of the Narnian gold gave his face a warm glow. The Gypsy then retrieved an old piece of parchment from his satchel along with several sheets of vellum. Clasping the necklaces in his hand, he spread the parchment out flat on the hood of the truck.

The parchment contained the remains of an old map and unless you knew the Earth as well as Fernes, the map would have been practically impossible to read. On one piece of the vellum he had enlarged the design of his amulet and when he placed the transparent sheet over the parchment, something miraculous happened—the design formed a trail to be followed, as though it were an incredibly complex treasure map. He then studied Judith's pendant, and began to scribble the design on a second piece of vellum with a blunt piece of charcoal that he fished from his pocket. Howling in delight, he waved Judith closer and Peter, who was curious about the Gypsy's discovery, kept a watchful eye.

"Come! Look!" Fernes exclaimed pointing at the map. "Now you see, my amulet only takes us halfway—it dumps us on edge of the desert. But…" Excitedly, he took the second vellum page and placed it carefully down on the parchment. "…your amulet takes path farther."

Judith looked puzzled. "I don't understand. _My_ path ends in the middle of the desert. How is that any better?"

"Aha! So you think. But you do not see!" he said challenging her doubt and pointing precisely on the map. "There. In the eye of the Amphisbaena…"

Here lies an important lesson: take care to notice details, learn names, and recall stories of old. Being well traveled, Fernes knew this lesson well and it helped him discover the Amphisbaena. While Judith thought her necklace was stamped with a misshapen dragon, and Peter assumed the design to be snakes and birds, Fernes recognized the Amphisbaena—a desert thriving serpent with a head on each end, feathered wings, and bird-like feet. Growing irritable, Fernes explained this to them along with the notion that since the serpent could travel in either direction, it meant that the Amphisbaena on the map was a threshold to the Motherland.

"The land of our ancestors!" he cried in exuberance as he flipped the parchment over to reveal a second map.

Peter found the whole conversation to be intriguing, but upon seeing the second map, his stomach turned and suddenly everything seemed surreal. The map, although crudely reproduced, appeared to outline the land of Narnia—everything from the eastern coast to the mountains in the south, to the Wildlands of the north. But Peter had then remembered all of the tricks his mind had been playing, and having sworn not to think of Narnia again, he decided that the markings on the map were only a figment of his imagination.

Judith seemed less impressed with Fernes' discovery, and although she saw no logic behind how a spot in the middle of the desert would suddenly become a land of mountains, trees, and ocean, it was obvious that she wasn't going to drag the meeting out any longer by questioning him. So instead, she only nodded with a faint "hmm" under her breath.

Fernes handed Judith her necklace and spoke with a deep beckoning. "You should come with us. It's your birthright. Besides, you have a gift with the land…"

"No thank you, Cousin," she graciously declined as she rounded the horses. "But I wish you the best of luck. I'm happy to have helped you this far."

"It was a great help, indeed." Fernes replied as he took both sets of reins to help the young travelers mount their horses. "I will never forget it."

Peter shook the Gypsy's hand goodbye and Fernes gold teeth crept from beneath his lips in an almost twisted smile. "Boy, I've only just met you, but I see many great thing…you have the heart of a king! Just as Judith has the heart of a queen! Do not waste it on this, a petty life!"

Acknowledging his words with a bow of his head, Peter climbed up into Raina's saddle, and looked to Judith to lead the way. But Judith has her eyes fixed on Fernes with a solemn stare.

"No worries, Cousin," the Gypsy bellowed gruffly. "We'll meet again, and when we do I promise you what is yours…I'll be sure to take enough to give you half."

"Fernes, you take too much" she replied, and with a final wave, she smiled at Peter and the pair rode off back through the woods.


	9. Chapter 9: A Tale of Wanderlust

Chapter 9

A Tale of Wanderlust

Branches crunched beneath the horses' hooves as they walked side by side in a casual gait. Peter couldn't dismiss the sight of Fernes from his mind and he knew he would never forget the Gypsy's face or his advice. Judith, on the other hand, took her cousin with a grain of salt.

"I suppose I owe you an explanation," Judith said with a sigh. "Fernes is a great man—he taught me everything he's ever known—but he's overzealous."

"How so?" Peter replied.

"You have to understand, those Gypsies have been wandering throughout the land since before anyone can remember. Many are so accustomed to the life that they don't even know why they are traveling. Fernes can't stand the idea of being an aimless vagabond. He is well versed in the 'old ways' and believes that his people have been on an everlasting search to find the 'Motherland'. And now he thinks he's actually found it…he's mad to even think about leading those people into the middle of the desert."

Peter's ears perked and his head filled with questions. "So he's the leader of the Gypsies?"

"Yes and no. The elders decide when and where to move on, but only after they send scouts to survey the land. Fernes leads the scouts on these pilgrimages and he only takes a select few—the finest scavengers—the ones who can map the terrain with a mere glance and hold up to the harshest of conditions. And when the party returns, Fernes tells of his travels. They all trust his advice…he's quite convincing, you know.

"I take it that you were one of the select few to accompany Fernes?" he asked with an eyebrow raised.

Judith looked at him skeptically from the corner of her eye. "I had gone a few times…how did you know?"

"Without stating the obvious, I noticed that you got us here without a map," he smiled.

Judith shrugged. "Oh…well, it's a useful talent"

"So what was it like…scouting, that is…"

Sitting back in the saddle, she thought for a moment and the corners of her mouth curled into a faint grin. "Once I stopped being afraid, I found it exhilarating. But it was dangerous…especially in these times. Aside from the natural hazards, we were more focused on avoiding soldiers, camps, and bombsites. So we stuck to the woods and took our chances in the wild. We were better equipped for that sort of obstacle anyway…our staffs and machetes were no match for bullets."

"I have a hard time believing any of that," Peter teased her.

"You're right, I've just made it all up, " she laughed and with a sudden burst she raced forward, zigzagging through the trees until she seemed to vanish into thin air.

Taken aback and suddenly alone, Peter squinted his eyes and scanned the woods looking for his companion—after all, he was only a few paces behind her. At that moment, two things worried Peter: the first being that he had no idea where he was, and the second (which concerned him the most) was that in light of the unusual events he had experienced on this day, he feared he was going mad.

"Jude…" Peter called out as he walked Raina warily forward. "Where are you? It's not funny…"

"Maybe not to you," she snickered from behind.

Peter turned his head and sighed in relief to see Judith ride out into the open. "How did you do that?"

"Magic!" she said with a sarcastic chuckle. "Now, I know Louka is thirsty and I don't know about you, but my stomach is grumbling. There should be a stream down that slope where we can take respite."

Peter agreed, and sure enough they found a small brook exactly where Judith had said it would be. They rummaged through their packs and then let Raina and Louka drink from the bank as they sat on a cool mossy patch enjoying honey butter sandwiches and wild blackberries that they picked from a nearby bush.

When they had finished and felt quite replenished, they wandered around the creek bed searching for flat stones to skip on the still pool at the stream's bend. Judith took off her boots and dipped her feet in the water, while Peter vivaciously hopped atop a fallen tree bridged across the brook.

"Peter, do you remember your dreams?" Judith called out to him pensively as he began to walk along the trunk.

"I don't know," he replied as he tried to keep concentration on his balance. "Sometimes, I guess…"

Stepping out on a smooth, flat, rock, she flung a stone and they watched it skim across the water. "I hardly ever remember my dreams," she said turning towards her friend. "But last night I had a dream about a girl who stole a horse. It was wonderful! She was free to ride wherever she wanted. I have half a mind to steal these horses. How about it? Want to steal the horses and ride away from everything forever?"

Peter stood on the middle of the trunk and fished a stone from his pocket. "You mean, just take them? And where would we go?"

"Wherever we wanted, of course!" she cheered. "Somewhere where the wind is strong and the people mind their own business. And the land must be lush with soft rolling hills so we can tuck and tumble down them."

"The horses too?" he joked, lobbing a stone into the water so that the splash flew up high enough to spray Judith.

She wiped the water droplets from her brow and with a laugh, she replied plainly, "Yes, but we must first teach the horses how to tuck and roll."

"That may be very difficult. I don't believe that horses are prone to tucking," he said in a very stately manner as he tossed another stone and splashed Judith again.

"True, but we'll have all the time in the world!" And she knelt down, cupping the water in her hands and she threw a wave of water at Peter.

Losing his balance, he leapt to the opposite bank and avoiding the thistle, he grabbed onto a sturdy shrub in order to hoist himself up on the ridge. But before he could gloat, he felt a sharp pinch on his hand and snatched it back in pain.

"Y'alright?" Judith shouted across the creek with concern.

"Yes. A bee has just gone and stung me, that's all," he assured her, shaking his hand haphazardly in the air.

"Come on over here. Let me take a look at it…"

"I'm fine, really. It's only a bee sting," he said nonchalantly, not wanting to make a fuss (after all, had endured much worse in the past).

"I know, but we have a long ride back and that sort of thing can be terribly uncomfortable."

Peter sighed and hopped across the rocks. She motioned for him to sit and he knelt on bank, outstretching his hand to show her that nothing was wrong. Examining the wound with care, she shook her head with disapproval.

"See, it's already started to swell. Not to worry…" she said as she turned a rock over, picked up some fresh mud on her finger, and dabbed it over the red sting on Peter's hand.

Even though the cool, wet, mud soothed the burn, Peter grimaced. "What are you doing?"

"Doesn't it feel better?" she asked with a confident smirk.

In a moment, the throbbing began to fade and Peter was far too surprised to be smug. "You know, it actually does!"

"Told you!" she taunted him, smearing mud on his cheek.

In a quick stroke, he stuck his hand in the mud and playfully wiped some of it on Judith's face. Scoffing light-heartedly, she splashed water up onto him and in the midst of all the fun Peter did something very peculiar. It happened so quickly that both of them were equally stunned. Peter, being swept up in sheer bliss, had leaned in and placed a lingering kiss on Judith's lips.

There was an awkward moment, but the silence was soon replaced by a harmonious laughter as they both toppled over in amusement. And although there was an unspoken appreciation on each end and neither ever forgot about it, they never told anyone about the kiss, and they never mentioned it again. Because some things are only enchanting when they remain as an innocent secret.


	10. Chapter 10: The Meeting at the Station

Chapter 10

The Meeting at the Station

Several years passed since the summer in the country and Peter and Judith remained close friends as they grew into young adults. Peter became a man of confidence and integrity, and he had a knack for finding adventure, even in the most mundane of tasks. Once he had finished schooling, he took employment at a publishing house, and although he was intelligent enough to negotiate contracts, he found little pleasure in dealing with pretentious authors (most of which he thought their stories was hackneyed and boring). Instead, he preferred to work with the printers. There was excitement among the printing presses, and physical labor that he welcomed wholeheartedly (after all, he never just _sat_ on his throne when he was High King and at present thought, "Well, I'm certainly not going to sit around now!") Even though his hands were usually stained with ink and his clothes carried the faint must of the warehouse, he still possessed an air of regality and no one thought any less of him.

His wages were minimal, but he never grew discouraged and picked up odd jobs to add to his income. His real dream was to be a writer himself, and to travel the world looking for the wonderment in life far away from England. But because he was the eldest, he felt an obligation to financially help his family and so whatever money was left over, he put into savings for his future life abroad.

Judith learned to adapt to life away from the woods, and with Peter's friendship, the rumors began to fade. She grew into her awkwardness and accepted that she was awful at making trite conversation about fashion or politics, but found that she could carry a discussion quite well if the topic pertained to science, art, or literature. Her father sent her off to the University of Cambridge for a "proper" education and she found a great passion for archeological studies. She hardly ever returned to Finchley (except for holidays and even those trips were short and scarce), but Peter would frequently stay with his Aunt and Uncle in Cambridge in order to make prolonged visits.

It was early in autumn when Peter and the rest of the Pevensie siblings agreed to pick up Judith at the train station. She was only coming home to ready her things and to say goodbye, for she was given an amazing opportunity and was going away for a year to study and excavate the ancient city of Pompeii. Everyone seemed terribly excited to see Judith before she left, except for Susan, who rolled her eyes at every mention of her name. Susan didn't see why they were all so fond of Judith, but Lucy liked how she made up her own languages, and Edmund found great interest in that she could fix almost anything with string. And since she was Peter's best friend, Susan was careful not to talk about how she thought Judith was "strange and unladylike" because she knew it would upset her brother. But what really struck her, was that their mother appeared incredibly eager to see Judith as well.

Susan reluctantly accompanied her siblings to the station (everyone insisted that she go) and she couldn't help but complain when the train pulled in late. Once Judith arrived, everyone was far too busy fussing over her to care about what Susan could have been doing had she not been forced to come. It had been a while since they had last seen Judith, and something about her seemed different. Perhaps it was only surprising to see her without her old boots and dressed as though she were of high society (she had learned to fake the part very well).

She greeted them all with clasp of the hands and a kiss on the cheek followed by a brief hug (even Susan), but as sophisticated as she had been, the façade crumbled upon her greeting with Peter. Susan, Edmund, and Lucy raised their eyebrows curiously as they watched how awkward the pair became in each others' presence and while attempting to kiss cheeks, the gesture went unsynchronized and they bumped noses instead. Laughing nervously at the blunder, they dropped all formality, and Peter embraced her in his arms, holding her tightly to his chest with a smile.

The boys collected her luggage and as they walked away to load the car, Edmund looked to his brother in confusion and inquisitively asked, "What was that all about, then?"

Peter kept his head held forward and through the teeth of a tightly forced smile he muttered for him to "Shut up." Edmund pursed his lips together as to hold back laughter, but then in a second thought, he froze mid-step and nearly tripped over himself. Edmund, being the most astute of them all, had suddenly figured out what was going on.


	11. Chapter 11: Plans, Promises, and Pumice

Chapter 11

Plans, Promises, and Pumice.

Since the moment she arrived, Peter and Judith had been nearly inseparable. Judith was leaving for her studies abroad at the end of the week and even though they tried to convince each other that a year is nothing in the grand scheme of life, it felt like eternity for both. It was bad enough to be separated by towns and boroughs, but having entire countries between them felt impossible to bear. They decided that lamenting on the separation would only make Judith feel guilty for going (which was the last thing Peter wanted) and so they kept themselves busy, running about the town, enjoying every moment as though it were their last together.

Judith begged Peter to show her his work, and so he took her to the publishing house. With an air of expertise, he demonstrated how he could operate the press and taught her about the different types of inks and oils used for printing. She agreed that it was quite a fascinating profession and listened thoroughly as he described the great advantage of working in publishing once he writes a book of his own. And then he flooded her with all of his ideas, both fiction and factual. He was well versed in speech and thought, and although he got along well with the other workers, he knew he could never hold such a conversation with them (this was possibly the only thing he missed about working alongside the editors). "You're so lucky to get to go to Pompeii," he told her and then spoke endlessly about his plans to survey the Serengeti, travel to Singapore, and sail through the locks of the Panama Canal.

While Peter spoke of venturing to far off lands, Judith always noticed a magical glint in his eyes and how his voice grew strong with a solid sense of purpose. Although she usually enjoyed basking these rare and stately moments, pressed against an approaching journey of her own, she asked him, "What are you searching for?"

"Anywhere more interesting than here," he replied. And upon seeing that his answer did not satisfy Judith's curiosity, he collected his thoughts and added, "Somewhere beyond everything that we think we know, there are wars and heroes, plans and prophesies, martyrs and disciples…all waiting for someone to find their story."

"But I'm sure there are plenty of those stories waiting to be discovered right under your nose. Why go searching elsewhere?" she replied with a cynical smile.

Peter raised an eyebrow at looked at his friend smugly as he made his rebuttal. "Why go digging in Pompeii when there's plenty of soil and history right beneath you here?"

"Aha!" Judith exclaimed playfully. "I'm not dim…I know what you really mean. Peter, do you want me to stay?"

With some sorrow in his voice, he decided to no longer play games and answered honestly, "Of course. But I couldn't make you."

"Sure you could," she said blankly, placing her hand softly and subtly on his.

"I know," he sweetly smiled. "But I wouldn't (Not today, at least)."


	12. Chapter 12: The High King and the Loon

Chapter 12

The High King and the Loon Prince

On Saturday morning, Aunt Alberta had come to visit and the scent of breakfast being prepared along with the chatter of gossip roused Edmund, Susan, and Lucy. They made their beds and dressed for the day, Susan taking longer since she was meticulous about her morning primping. Edmund and Lucy crept down the stairs and couldn't help but overhear their Mother talking to their Aunt.

"…and personally, I'd like to see a wedding in the spring…"

"A wedding?" Lucy interjected, rounding the corner into the kitchen.

Startled, Mrs. Pevensie tossed her head around quickly and began rapidly adjusting place settings around the table. "What? Oh, you're both up! It's about time! Come sit down…say good morning to your Aunt. Breakfast is getting cold."

"Mum, may I borrow your silver broach?" Susan called down the stairs.

"Yes, Dear," she replied, shoveling eggs and toast onto plates. "It's in the walnut jewelry box…you know where it is!"

Edmund and Lucy began to eat as Mrs. Pevensie refilled Aunt Alberta's teacup and poured a cup for herself. Susan, looking as pretty as ever, skipped down the stairs adorning her mother's broach and joined her siblings around the table.

"Mum, where's Gran's ring? The old fancy one…I didn't see it in your jewelry box…" she said casually sitting down at the table.

"Oh," Mrs. Pevensive stuttered. "I took it in to the jewelers to be polished."

There was rap at the door and Mrs. Pevensive waved through the window, inviting the guest inside. Judith pushed open the door carefully (she had the terrible habit of applying too much force and knocking the decorative hangings off of the wall). She greeted everyone cheerfully and handed Mrs. Pevensie a large rhubarb pie. Taking the pie graciously, she placed it on the counter and then exchanged subtle grimace with her children. They all knew that cooking was not Judith's forte.

Laughing to herself nervously, Judith added, "At least I've learned something at that big, fancy school."

"I thought you were studying archeology…" Edmund piped up, finishing his last bit of toast.

"I am…on my own accord," she assured him. "But unfortunately, several of my classes are geared towards the art of homemaking."

"I was pleased to hear that they are finally awarding degrees to young women," Aunt Alberta chirped. "But I suppose it's still just a posh finishing school for many. A place to practice high-society etiquette and mingle with the sons or rich aristocrats. "

Judith nodded in agreement and rolled her eyes, but Susan sat forward in with great interest (she thought Judith was crazy to want to dig in the dirt when there were plenty of wealthy young men to admire).

"Anyway," Judith said, changing the subject. "Where's Peter? I wanted to see if he could come with me on my errands."

Suddenly, Edmund, Lucy, and Susan all noticed that Peter was absent. "Where _is_ Peter?" Edmund asked with force.

Mrs. Pevensie ignored the demanding tone of her son and regretfully told Judith that Peter had left early in the morning to run errands of his own. "I'm sure you'll run into him later," she added.

Looking a bit concerned, Judith then looked to Edmund and Lucy. "Would you both like to join me? I could use the company."

Before they could answer, their mother stepped over their words. "No, I'm afraid they still have chores to do."

"Of course," Judith said faking a smile and turning towards the door.

Edmund and Lucy's shoulders slumped. They would have rather gone with Judith than have to stay home and do chores. Edmund felt even more miserable because with Peter gone, he'd have to do all the work himself.

"Before I forget again," perked Judith voice as she pulled a small book from her purse and handed it to Mrs. Pevensie. "I wanted to give this to Peter…it reminds me of him."

Taking the book, Mrs. Pevensie read the title aloud and Susan (in a moment of weakness) remarked, "Aren't you a bit old to be reading children's books?"

"No, I suppose not," Judith replied plainly and she bid everyone farewell (with a spiteful glare towards Susan).

Edmund, being the most astute of all of them, had figured that his mother did not want to discuss Peter's whereabouts in front of Judith. But now that Judith had gone, he decided that persistence was the only way to get her to get any information out of her. After all, she had been acting particularly secretive. And so Edmund approached her with a battery of questions: "Where exactly is Peter? What errands 'of his own' does he have? (Why do I have to do his chores along with my own?) Why are you acting so strange? Why can't you answer a simple question? What is going on?"

With that, Mrs. Pevensie broke down in tears. Susan and Lucy stared at Edmund furiously and Edmund, both shocked and feeling incredibly guilty for making his mother cry, sat there silently with his jaw slacked open. Aunt Alberta handed Mrs. Pevensie a handkerchief, and as she blotted her eyes dry, Alberta leaned in and said calmly, "Well, you might as well tell them."

Mrs. Pevensie wiped her cheeks, and with an innocent smile, she sat at the table and whispered, "I was never good at keeping secrets…"

"I'm sorry, Mother," Edmund professed, slumping in his chair.

"No, no. It's not your fault," she comforted him as she beckoned all of her children to listen. "Now, no one is to say a word about what I am going to tell you. Peter is nearly 23 years old, and he is a grown man. It is about time he begins his own life…Peter has taken my mother's ring, and has gone to ask Judge Chauncy's permission…"

"Permission?" Lucy gasped.

"Yes. He's doing this the right way. Before he proposes, he's asking Judith's father for his blessing."

Susan was so confounded that she couldn't finish a sentence. "But I didn't even know they were…how long have they…?"

"For a number of years, in secret," Mrs. Pevensie told her with a dreamy gaze.

Edmund, being the most astute of them all, was hardly surprised. He exchanged a glance with Aunt Alberta, and it became clear that she had known for quite some time (being that her nephew had become a frequent houseguest while in Cambridge, she had turned into quite the enabler). But before anyone else could say anything more about the matter, the door flung open, and Peter stormed in, his face flush and teeth clenched.

"Oh, Peter!" Lucy exclaimed.

Peter glared at the room of expectant faces, and then angrily looked at his mother with disappointment. "You told them!"

Everyone grew quite aware that things hadn't gone well and as Peter stomped off to his room, the others sat in silence, unsure of what to do. Edmund was the first to get up, and Lucy followed shortly, taking the Judith's book with her. They warily went to check on their brother, and pushed the bedroom door slightly ajar only to find Peter pacing back and forth heavily. Shutting the door behind them, they watched him in a silent fury. Neither had seen him so upset. Uncomfortable wading in the tension, Lucy held out the book with trembling hands and softly squeaked, "Judith brought you this…"

Edmund shot Lucy a glare. We all know that body language can often convey a message better than words and this was one of those occasions. Upon receiving the glare, Lucy's lip quivered as though Edmund had screamed, "You daft cow! What'd you go and mention her name for??" Either Peter did not hear her, or he ignored her comment (whichever it was, both Edmund and Lucy were glad for it) because he paid her no attention.

"They laughed at me! Those beastly people laughed at me!" Peter finally exclaimed. "And do you know what her father told me? He said that he didn't send his daughter off to Cambridge to marry some ink stained riff-raff from the printing house!"

Lucy's heart sunk deep within her chest and Edmund's breath became shallow. They knew what he was going to say next and they waited in an agonizing anticipation.

"I was High King of Narnia!" he bellowed righteously.

Although her brother's plight had saddened her deeply, Lucy secretly smiled on the inside. Peter hadn't openly spoken of Narnia in what seemed like a dreadfully long time and she feared that he had forgotten. And furthermore, if Peter could forget then it meant that she and Edmund could forget too. But the truth of the matter was that there wasn't a day gone by when Peter didn't think of Narnia (even when he tried to force himself not to).

Edmund, on the other hand, was more concerned with deescalating the current crisis. "I know, Peter…but…" he said taking in a gulp of air.

But Peter wasn't ready to listen to any reason and continued to rant. "Apparently Judith's true affections are for some loon that claims he's the Prince of Moldova!"

Perplexed, Edmund cocked his head to the side. "I didn't know Moldova had a prince…"

"I don't even know where Moldova is…" chimed in Lucy with an uncomfortable giggle as she tried to lighten the mood.

Unable to be consoled, Peter grabbed the book from Lucy's hands and swiftly fled from the house, coldly avoiding his gushing mother, his sympathizing aunt, and his apathetic sister. The only words he left them with were: "I need some time to be alone…"


	13. Chapter 13: The Door in the Attic

Chapter 13

The Door in the Attic

Peter didn't return until dark. The entire family tried to look as though they hadn't been waiting up for him, but the concern on their faces gave it all away as he marched up to his room without acknowledging anyone. He readied himself for bed, placed his new book on the end table beside him, and climbed under the covers. Edmund slipped into the room shortly after and while he tucked himself into his bed, he turned towards Peter and reluctantly asked, "What did you do all day?"

Peter remained silent for a moment, contemplating whether or not he should pretend to be asleep, but finally answered, "I found a bench in the park and read."

"Do you feel any better?"

"If I say yes, will you let me go to sleep?"

Edmund groaned and shut out the light. Peter took solace in the silent span of darkness. He faded away into a deep slumber that encompassed all of his senses, and as his mind drifted, his last conscious thoughts were something about how he had never felt so tired in his entire life.

Perhaps it would have had been a refreshing night of sleep if the sound of clumsy footsteps hadn't disturbed him. While the footsteps could be ignored ("probably just Edmund getting a cup of water," he thought), what really woke him was a bright light that flickered and shined directly in his face. In a daze, he raised his forearm over his eyes, but when he realized that someone was standing at the foot of his bed, he jumped upright.

"What's going on?" he gasped, looking over at Edmund who was still sound asleep in his bed.

"Shh shh…you'll wake everyone," the voice whispered.

Squinting his eyes and looking into the shadows, he lowered his guard. "Jude?"

Standing at the bedside wearing a mischievous smile, Judith held a torch and tugged at Peter's arm to get him out of bed.

"What? Why? But…how did you get in?" Peter muttered in confusion as he rubbed his eyes.

"The roof….we need to talk….come on then!" she urged him under her breath.

"Can't it wait until morning?"

"No…come on!"

Peter grudgingly got out of bed. The pair tiptoed through the hallways of the house and up into the attic. Judith practically dragged him the entire way, shushing both his yawns and his attempts to question her motives. The attic was tight, dusty, and dark—the kind of dark that carries the lonely must of years' isolation. Passing the torch to Peter, Judith climbed an old, rickety ladder and pressed against the ceiling with great force to lift the small door that led onto the roof.

"Is this really necessary?" Peter whined with a great yawn.

"Would you rather stay in here?" she grunted, struggling with the weight of the door.

Shaking his head, Peter grabbed her by the waist and gently forced her off the ladder. "Let me get it," he commanded, handing her the light and with a thrust of his shoulder, the door budged and the cool air of the night blew against their faces.

Peter had never been up on the roof before. It felt liberating and surreal to stand atop the houses and to look down into familiar streets with such unfamiliarity. But something felt askew and menacing clouds concealed any stars within the night sky. He wanted nothing more than to go back down into the attic and lock up the little door.

"Now what couldn't wait until tomorrow?" he sighed, slumping his shoulders in exasperation.

Judith bit her lip and fumbled with her necklace. "I'm leaving tomorrow…er…today. And I know something is wrong. Are you mad at me, Peter? I can't leave with you mad at me. At least not knowing why."

"It smells like rain. I think a storm is coming. We should go back inside," he said plainly as it began to drizzle. But when he looked at her, he couldn't tell if her cheeks were wet with tears or raindrops.

"Please, Peter. Please," she wept while the rain thickened and thunder crackled in the distance.

"Judith, we need to go inside!" he pleaded with her through the sudden torrential downpour.

"No! Not until you tell me!"

The rain became so heavy that it stung when it braised the skin and they could hardly look upon each other through the veil of streaming water between them. And as the wind shrilled, so did their voices.

"Why are you acting like this?" Peter shouted at the absurdity of the situation.

"Why are _you_ acting like that?" she replied with a screech.

Soaked from head to toe and in no mood to be trifled with, Peter marched towards the little door, turning to his companion with impatience. "You're welcome to be hysterical inside, out of the rain, if you please!"

"Hysterical?" scoffed Judith, hoping Peter couldn't hear the quiver in her voice through the pounding rain. "You were nowhere to be found. I thought we were supposed to spend the day together. I thought we were supposed to say goodbye!"

"It's…it's hard to explain," he stuttered.

And as Judith turned her back to him, a vicious gust of wind caught her in her pivot. She slipped on the slick surface beneath her, but instead of toppling over, the wind took hold of her and dragged her out and over the edge of the roof. Without a second of hesitance, Peter took a running leap and grabbed onto her hand. Flat on his stomach, he tried hoisting her back up and as Judith dangled, she clawed at the wall hoping to get a grip. But the storm was unforgiving and the wind pushed Peter (despite his defiance) off of the roof along with her.

Judith screamed and Peter braced himself for the inevitable crash. But the fall seemed to be much longer than he had anticipated (he couldn't imagine that his house was really that high) and instead of the bellowing thud of hitting the ground, salty water engulfed them in a great splash.

At first they sank. Perhaps it was the sheer force of the drop into the water, or maybe it was the shock of suddenly being thrust into an ocean from a Finchley rooftop, but neither moved for a few moments. Once instinct finally took over, they both swam desperately for the surface, savoring the breath stored in their lungs. The sun shone down through the clear ripple of waves, guiding them up into the warm, sweet air. Gasping desperately, they treaded to keep afloat as they assessed their new surroundings. Judith was swept up in disbelief and she squeezed her eyes tight, expecting to find herself on a hospital gurney once she opened them up again. Peter chuckled at her reaction, and looking off into the distance, he could see the coast of his beloved Narnia.


	14. Chapter 14: The Line of the Treacherous

Chapter 14

The Line of the Treacherous Them

"We're dead, aren't we?" Judith said in a low tone, resting her chin on the water.

"Of course not," Peter smirked. "Now, we have to swim for the shore. It's a bit far, so conserve your energy. No games, alright?"

Although Judith would have loved to have challenged him to a race, she understood the gravity of their situation and nodded in assurance (although she secretly disapproved of her friend's condescending insinuation).

"Try to stay close and ride the waves in when you can," he continued and then began to swim forcefully along the surface.

Judith slipped off her boots and let them sink into the sea—although they were her favorite, it was far too difficult to keep afloat with them and she sighed a sorrow-filled goodbye as she watched them disappear below. The swim to land was arduous, and the pull of the ocean was so great that it became important to stop and adjust course, which many times meant that they would have to swim against the drift as to make sure they would not be pushed farther out to sea. Peter kept a steady stroke, but Judith fell behind—not because she wasn't a strong swimmer, but because at several points she swore that she had felt slimy fingers wrap around her ankles. At first she was quite startled, but she convinced herself that it was only bits of seaweed clinging to her legs (this, of course, didn't stop her from angrily thrashing about in the water to ward off the "seaweed").

As they drew nearer, the water became vicious and they had to duck beneath the surface to dodge large waves that seemed to sneak up on them. They soon reached a sandbar and took respite until they noticed a massive wave rolling towards them. Peter signaled to Judith hastily and before the wave crashed, they dove off the bank with the wave to their backs and rode it all the way into the shore. To say that the ride was unpleasant would be an understatement. At first the initial rush was smooth, but as the depth became shallow, the riptide pulled them down and tossed them violently against the sand.

Washing up upon the beach like driftwood, they crawled past the foreshore and collapsed in exhaustion. The soft sand eased their aching bodies and the warm sun soothed them, and although it must have been dreadfully uncomfortable, they both fell flat on their stomachs and rested their heads on sandy mounds.

"Y'alright?" Peter drearily called over to his companion.

Judith replied with a drowsy groan that was barely a "Yes" and they both drifted away into a much-needed sleep.

When they woke it was nearly dusk. Judith wiped the sand from her face, and although she was still sore, the excitement of this new place filled her with energy and she climbed atop a tall dune so that she could see beyond the beach. The grass was lush and sprinkled with heather, and to her back she could make out the tall peaks of faraway mountains past the dense patches of trees. And in the distance ahead of her, she gazed upon the intricate cathedrals of a castle perched so high it seemed to sit on a cloud.

"Well I'll be…" Peter muttered over her shoulder, startling Judith who hadn't heard him climb up after her. "They've rebuilt it! Cair Paravel stands again!"

Judith meant to ask him about this "Cair Paravel" business (as well as where they were, how they got there, and how they were to get home), but before she could form the words, she became distracted by the landscape and gasped, "Oh Peter! Look! Rolling hills not far from here! Do you remember? Oh, I don't care if we're too old—let us go tuck and tumble down them again and again and again!"

And without a second thought, Judith slid down the dune and ran in the direction of hills just up and over the ridge. Peter chased after her and as he breathed in the sweet aroma of the unspoiled land, he noticed that it was as though they had never fought and the happiness they shared would never wane. But in the next moment his stomach sank with the idea of Judith and the Prince of Moldova (or whatever he was) and bitterness lingered no matter how hard he tried to tuck it away.

Judith had reached the top of hill first, and through her shallow breath she teased Peter from above, carelessly leapt into grass, and began rolling down the incline. She met the bottom with a shriek, and at first Peter laughed, believing that the purpose of her cry was merely a bumpy landing (he knew very well how coarse rocks hid beneath the turf). But when Judith screamed again with the full essence of fright, he raced to the top of the hill to meet a horrifying sight in the valley below.

Where the grass had once been rich green, they valley was now stained a muddy red. Crudely carved pikes had been pounded into the soil and fixed atop them were the heads of a small assembly of Narnians. The gruesome collection included both man and beast (as well as dwarves, fauns, satyrs, and centaurs—however, without their bodies they were hard to distinguish at a glance), but there no other remains, only dried pools of blood where their bodies once fell. The pikes stretched across the valley in a line, creating a blood stained blockade marking the remnants of massacre where the victors spared no life.

Scrambling on the ground, Judith tried to get to her feet. But it appeared that her scream had attracted a fiend and from around the bend, the blur of a great black beast charged. As it leapt to consume her, Peter swiftly pulled a stone from the ground and hurled it with all of his strength. In that moment, all of the luck in the world was concentrated in that very stone and Peter succeeded in striking the beast in the head. The beast plunged into Earth and Peter rushed to Judith's aid, standing between her and the body of her assailant. Her hands trembled as she grasped onto Peter, trying to right herself so they could run, but he motioned for her to stay still and looked towards the quiet body of the beast. Realizing that they had no weapons (other than stones), Judith urged him to retreat. "Quickly, Peter, before it wakes," she cried softly. "Or worse, another one comes!"

Paying her no mind, Peter grabbed another stone and courageously approached the beast. There he discovered that the mysterious beast was a Panther, and when Peter saw that he had only stunned it (not knocked it cold as he had hoped), he inched away carefully waiting for the wildcat to suddenly pounce again. He grabbed Judith's hand, but before they could escape an unfamiliar voice echoed from behind.

"Aye Columbkille! Columkille!" the voice called.

Peter and Judith froze. They heard the grumblings of another voice and as the strangers came closer, their bickering hushed and turned into searching calls to "Columbkille" (as it would appear that whoever Columbkille was, he was lost). Peter felt pity for the small search party because it seemed likely that their missing companion had suffered a terrible fate.

From around the bend, a young man with a boyish face and a gruff Red Dwarf warily approached. They wore large packs on their backs and from their ragged appearance, it looked as though they had been traveling on foot for days. At first the strangers hadn't noticed Peter and Judith—they kept their eyes fixed on the horror of the bloodied pikes and then with a regretful sigh, they averted their gaze. But it wasn't too long after that they realized they were not alone and they defensively jumped back at the sight of Peter, Judith, and wounded Panther.

The young man clumsily drew a large sword from his side and held it nervously in the air. His eyes darted back and forth from Peter to Judith to the Panther until he mustered up the courage to speak. "Are you friend or foe?" he asked, even though it was obvious that he had already made up his mind.

"Rhindon…" Peter muttered examining the blade that the young man brandished in intimidation.

"W…what?" stuttered the young man.

"My sword…give it to me," Peter coolly demanded with authority.

"Don't give in to his tricks, Clay," said the Dwarf, drawing his bow. "He's one of _Them_. And look at 'er…she's covered in the blood of our comrades."

In all of the commotion, Judith hadn't realized that her clothing had been stained from the bloody mess she rolled into. She swallowed a cry of disgust, as not to make any sudden sounds, but her body shuddered and her face grew pale. Peter outstretched his arm protectively and shoved her behind him.

"Don't move another muscle lest you want to lose limb! I swore to protect this sword with my life, but that doesn't mean that I won't use it to protect my own," the young man shouted through a quivering voice.

"Go on, Clay. Give him _his_ sword," spoke a new voice amidst the confrontation. Startled, everyone turned to see the Panther standing proudly and fully recovered.

The young man kept the sword upright, but his eyes softened when he addressed the Panther. "Oh Columbkille, we thought you were near dead—why else would you lie still when your enemy's heart continues to beat?"

"When you are bludgeoned by the High King of Narnia, you best stand down," the Panther replied, bowing his head. "I am no enemy to Narnia and therefore King Peter is no enemy to me."

"I don't believe it," the Dwarf said, keeping his bow in position. "You foolish animals…"

"You are the fool, Phinean," the Panther growled. "And what you say, Claymont?"

After a contemplating moment, the young man knelt and humbly presented the sword to Peter. "I know that the Talking Beasts are ones to never forget the stories of old and if Columbkille swears that it is the High King that stands before us, then I too, believe and can only hope that Your Majesty will be merciful towards our misguided actions."

Upon hearing his companion's words, the Dwarf finally lowered his weapon (grumbling something about how "that cat is going to be the death of us") and knelt to the ground. Peter took the sword and motioned for them to rise. Befuddled beyond comfort, Judith tugged on Peter's shoulder and pulled him aside. "What are you doing?" she whispered frantically. "They think you're their king? You can't possibly keep up this charade!"

"Calm, yourself," he smiled, placing his forehead against hers. "There is much to explain. But first, let's find out what happened here…"

As Peter walked away to join the group, Judith stood behind and unable to make sense of anything, she pleaded after him. "But Peter, you're no king!"

Perhaps had he been in a better state of mind, he could have heard the frenzy in her voice and laughed at how naive she really was. But Peter still harbored the resentment of her father's insults and so instead, her words lingered as though they were a viscous reminder of how lowly she must have thought of him. So when formal introductions were finally made, and the Narnians bowed to Judith, Peter's tongue slipped and he distastefully said, "Save your spines the trouble—she's no queen." Only after the words had left his lips did he realize how hurtful they really were.

Sensitive of the humiliation turning Judith's face flush, Columbkille the Panther quickly spoke up to redirect their attention. "You'll have to forgive me, My Lady, for giving you such a fright," he said to Judith apologetically. "The land is no longer safe in these parts and I fear that I had assumed you to be one of the Treacherous Them."

"It's alright," Judith replied hesitantly. She had been accustomed to speaking to animals, but was still taken aback to have one actually speak to her.

"Who are the Treacherous Them? And are they the ones responsible for these horrors?" Peter asked with a furrow in his brow as he pointed towards the line of pikes.

The Narnians nodded their heads solemnly and Phinean the Dwarf looked over his shoulders before he spoke. "They are rebels and outlaws…unyielding as they are cruel. They honor no code except to obey the word of their Invincible Lord…"

"It is not safe to say anymore here," Columbkille interjected. "Let us continue to Cair Paravel and we shall tell you in detail all that we know."

Peter and Columbkille led the expedition with Phinean keeping watch for danger at their heels. Judith lagged behind and Claymont walked beside her, excitedly telling her a brief history of Narnia including the stories of Peter the Magnificent and all of his valiant deeds and how they were blessed to see his return. And while Judith's chest swelled in bewilderment and admiration for all of the great things her dear friend had accomplished, it broke her heart to think that Peter had kept it secret (especially from her). She was quite sure that he had his reasons, but as we all know, logic does little for healing matters of the heart.


	15. Chapter 15: The Feast

Chapter 15

The Feast

The trek to Cair Paravel was anything but casual. The wary travelers insisted on returning before dark and so they all hastily raced the setting sun for safety within the castle walls. To Peter's surprise, the beginnings of a town had cropped up around Cair Paravel, and their Narnian guides slowed their pace as they passed through—Claymont thought it best not to draw attention to the presence of the High King until they had alerted the royal court.

A pair of centaurs guarded the gates that led to the castle's entry, and it was there that a grave looking man named Lord Odilon met the returning party.

"Are you all that remains of the escort?" he asked anxiously.

"I'm afraid so," Claymont sighed.

"We were ambushed fairly early on," Phinean added.

Odilon appeared especially worried. "And the King and Queen? The young Prince?"

"All safe in Archenland," Columbkille assured him. "We saw them all the way to Anvard, though the King's condition has worsened—but I am certain his illness will subside now that he can rest."

"And the sword?"

"Returned to its rightful owner," replied Claymont with a bow of his head.

Before Odilon could inquire further, Peter stepped forward bearing the sword Rhindon. For a moment, Odilon appeared to be very confused, but with a sudden realization, he gasped, "By the Lion! We were told he would never return! Oh, how our hope has been restored!"

The Lord's face filled with joy and as he ushered them all into the castle, he asked many more questions about the High King's unexpected arrival. It wasn't until they entered the great hall of Cair Paravel that Judith realized how silly she and Peter looked. They were both dirty and shoeless, and Peter had still been wearing his pajamas. But Peter felt no shame and walked with his head held high past the salutes of armored satyrs and fauns to meet a small gathering of Narnian officials crowded by the thrones.

"In these dark times, our High King has been sent to guide us!" Odilon announced enthusiastically.

"By Aslan's Mane!" another Lord shouted and the rest of the company rejoiced.

Odilon hushed the crowd. "While we all have serious matters to tend to, let us put them aside for tonight to celebrate a successful mission to ensure the safety of the King of Narnia and to welcome His Majesty King Peter back to the throne!"

Things happened very quickly then, and Judith found herself separated from Peter and led into a chamber where she was provided a hot bath and elegant robes. Once she was dressed and primped, she was taken to an opulent room with a long table adorned with a miraculous feast. Hung along the walls were intricate tapestries illustrating the great stories of Narnia and she could identify Peter as well as Susan, Edmund, Lucy, and even their cousin Eustace (as well as others that she did not know--but that's not to say that we wouldn't know them very well).

When Peter entered the room, the room quieted and Judith almost didn't recognize her dear friend. His new attire suited him well and she thought he looked quite kingly, despite her earlier doubts. He approached her with gentle eyes, and clasping her arm within his, he guided her to a seat next to him. Lord Odilon gave a toast and after Peter said a few gracious words, the feast began. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits and the Narnians made the High King and his companion feel as though they sat among old friends. The food was so rich and filling that Judith didn't see how anyone could go on for second helpings, but Peter exceeded her expectations and went on for thirds (he had gone to bed in Finchley without supper, and was quite famished after a full day without sustenance).

Glancing around the table, Judith noticed that no one in the court had been excluded from the feast—noblemen and servants alike joined together in celebration. But she also noticed Claymont's absence and when she mentioned it to Phinean, he replied, "Ah, Clay gets buried in his papers and usually takes his meals in his chambers. He's not much for gatherings."

"I can relate," Judith sighed with a smile. "All of this…well…I'm quite overwhelmed. I'm not accustomed to all of this attention."

"A Lady like you? Not accustomed to attention?" Phinean garbled, taking a swig of wine. "Hear this—The tales of Queen Susan's beauty have been passed on for centuries, but if you don't mind me sayin', I wouldn't be surprised if your name shadowed hers from now on."

Judith suddenly felt very uncomfortable and she struggled to find an amiable response. "Thank you, though surely that is the wine talking."

Phinean let out a hearty laugh (one much larger than you would expect for his size). "I mean what I say and I say what I mean! King Peter is lucky to wear you on his arm! That is…unless…"

The Dwarf paused, suspiciously looked around the table, and then leaned in so close that Judith could smell the alcohol on his breath. "…unless your loyalties lie elsewhere…"

"What is that supposed to mean?" snapped Judith.

But she never got an answer. Phinean laughed so hard that he toppled over in a drunken stupor. Cheers erupted from the surrounding party and the rest of the night was spent telling jokes and spouting out limericks until it was time to retire. It had been the first time in a long while that the court of Cair Paravel had experienced any merriment. And while Peter thoroughly enjoyed himself, Judith longed to be elsewhere.


	16. Chapter 16: The Narnian Council

Chapter 16

The Narnian Council

The next morning, Cair Paravel was an entirely different place. No one sang and no one cheered and smiles were hard to come by. It was an entirely different place, indeed. News had arrived that there had been more murders closer to the castle's vicinity—this time the victims weren't soldiers, but innocent townspeople plucked from their homes while the court at Cair Paravel dined over the grand feast. The Treacherous Them left the bodies (or lack there of) in their signature manner and all of Narnia was in great distress.

An emergency meeting was called for the trustworthiest of officials, and although kindly courtiers tried to persuade Judith to occupy herself with trivial recreations, she forcefully insisted on attending.

Peter paced contemplatively as the council sat around a large table, arguing over what needed to be done. Lord Odilon stood and silenced their quarrels with a clear of his throat.

"I think it is best to inform our High King of Narnia's current threat, sparing no detail," he calmly began and then the Lord addressed Peter humbly. "Your Majesty, I apologize for withholding information from you until this morning—I thought it best not to trouble you as you appeared quite weary after your travels, but I see now that I should have divulged all immediately upon your arrival. I hadn't realized how uninformed you were until you asked of King Caspian's whereabouts this very morning. Caspian X had departed to Aslan's Country long ago and we are now governed by the third generation descending from his rule. Oh, such a fool I am to be so ignorant!

"Please, Lord Odilon—do not take fault," said Peter forgivingly. "I insist you continue. There is much to know in little time."

Odilon nodded. "As you know, a murderous clan (the Treacherous Them, as we have come to call them) has emerged and like a raging wildfire, they can not be contained. At first we assumed them to be a small gang of outlaws practicing pandemonium, but whenever we pursued them, our soldiers would never return. The pillaging only worsened and the more troops we sent, the more we lost. We lost our finest warriors because we underestimated their threat. And then the heads…I cannot even speak of it…there were forests of stakes…"

Just then, Claymont entered clumsily through the corridor fumbling several scrolls of parchment in his arms. A silence hushed over the room and Odilon waved him forward.

"We've learned much since then, although not enough to overtake them," the Lord continued. "They are led by a single man—who by some sorcery has become invincible—and he has built an obedient army right under our noses. We have yet to find a camp, but we have reason to believe that they take cover in the deepest recesses of the forests, though they appear to be always on the move."

Peter crossed his arms and bit his lip as he thought. "The Lord of the Treacherous Them…how do we know he is actually invincible and your fears aren't fueled by myth?"

"Because, Your Majesty, I had fought him with your sword and no blow disabled him," Claymont interjected. "By some stroke of luck, I was able to retreat. Please understand, our escort was the first to have any survivors and in my heart I know Aslan had protected us and guided our journey to Archenland. And upon our return, in the very place where we narrowly escaped death, we found you. I deeply believe that everything has a purpose—whether you can see it is a matter of faith, I suppose…"

Claymont unrolled the largest of the parchment scrolls and spread it out along the table.

"But enough of my ramblings. Most pressing is that we have reason to believe that _they_ plan to take Narnia."

Peter approached the table and examined the scroll. It was a carefully drafted map of Narnia, covered with coordinates and speckled with red dots placed so meticulously that a clear pattern emerged. With a troubled glance, Peter looked to Claymont for an explanation (it was quite obvious that the High King knew what the map implied, but his face suggested that he wanted to be proven wrong).

Pointing to the pattern, Claymont's voice wavered. "I've been mapping the murder sites and the positions of the pikes—at first we thought it to be just random cruelty, but these atrocities appear to illustrate their motives. They've targeted Cair Paravel."

Lord Odilon, stepped up again. "And while our King objected, we insisted that he and the royal family take refuge with our allies in Archenland—he had become gravely ill and in his weakened condition he could not have endured an attack. We feared that Narnia would fall. So I, and the remains of our court, have been left to govern."

"What then is your plan of action, Lord Odilon?" Peter asked and the room erupted in argument over military action. It became clear that all of the officials in Narnia were at a loss of what to do and yet no one wanted to admit it.

Through the roars of disagreement, Claymont inconspicuously leaned closer to Peter and whispered, "Sire, there's something else…I didn't want to bring it to the attention of the others before you knew of it yourself. It was discovered at the site of the murders."

He pulled a folded piece of paper from the pouch on his belt and handed it to his King nervously. Peter carefully opened it and with each word he read, his concern became more visible.

"Thank you," said Peter after a brief hesitation and he handed the paper back to Claymont. "We should alert the rest of the council."

Peter stepped forward and a hush swept through the room. "It has been brought to my attention that our enemy has provided us with an ultimatum." He then beckoned Claymont to his side.

The young man (who turned green as soon as Peter turned to him) took deep breath and as he clumsily unfolded the piece of paper, he addressed the members of the council in a brave tone. "I hold the first piece of civil—_if_ you can call this civil—contact from the Treacherous Them: _Deter a war with the deliverance of the High King's head._"

At first, no one said anything. It was as if everyone was afraid to speak (or at least afraid of their immediate thoughts), but after a few moments, soft murmurs crept around the table and many of the officials stared at Peter, almost hungrily. Until then, Judith had been but a fly on the wall (in fact, almost everyone had forgotten she was even there), but she had been watching and listening intensely. She jumped out of her seat with her nostrils flared and piercing glare—and in an angry passion she shouted, "What a disgrace! To think that you're even considering it!"

Some of the lords stood and pounded their fists in outrage over the accusation (because it is easy to disguise shame with anger). Hearty disputes overcame the council again and with a calm demeanor, Claymont said, "They send this threat knowing that they can't fully take Narnia if the High King lives."

"But are we to engage in war and face certain death with these monsters?" a cowardly lord at the table asked.

"Perhaps there is room for negotiation!" another lord suggested.

Judith huffed heavily, her hands shaking with fury. "And so you're willing to hand him over, just like that? It's absolutely appalling!"

"Please, My Lady, calm yourself. There's no need to get worked up," Odilon insisted. "We would never barter with the High King's life."

"But I would," Peter said with a great air of confidence. "Lord Odilon, send the bravest messenger out into the forest to invite their Invincible Lord to meet with me on diplomatic terms."

The council bantered back and forth over the High King's orders while Judith gazed upon her closest friend with disbelief. But before she could object, Peter raised his hand with a frustrated sigh and a roll of his eyes. And although his intention was to silence the recurring bouts of bickering bouncing around the table (as patient as Peter was, the interruptions were becoming unbearable), Judith perceived that his gesture was directed at her and she took it as a great offense. Feeling overwhelmed, underappreciated, emotionally raw, and downright small, she decided then and there that she could no longer tolerate the petty insults. She gathered up her dress as not to step on the hem and with a breathy scoff, she stormed out of the room.

Judith was never known for being melodramatic, but her hasty exit captured the attention of everyone attending the meeting (had she realized it, she would have been severely embarrassed). Peter's first instinct was to chase after her, but in his hesitation some of the lords started to snicker until one crossed his arms and exclaimed, "It's true—woman is the daughter of delay. Now, can we get back to this already?"

Perhaps Peter would have been angry if given the chance, but Odilon swooped in to keep the peace and appease the High King. "Your Majesty, we really must continue. Do not worry about Lady Judith—I will send Claymont to check on her…we are no longer in need of his services and he is sensitive to these types of situations."

With the eyes of an eager council prodding him, Peter apprehensively exhaled and nodded with consent. Claymont gave a quick bow and then hurried to catch up with Judith. Odilon smiled gently and motioned for Peter to continue. And while the High King of Narnia proceeded to engage the council in discussing military tactics and calculating the probabilities of a war, his heart wasn't in it and his thoughts remained occupied with more personal matters.


	17. Chapter 17: The Scribe

Chapter 17: The Scribe

"Why are you following me, Claymont?"

"Why do you make with such haste, My Lady?"

Their presence echoed throughout the high arched ceilings of the corridor and Claymont met Judith's aggressive stance with a humble bow.

"So they have sent you after me?" Judith scoffed, crossing her arms tightly to her chest. "Let your High King know that I have taken the stable's fastest horse and plan never to return."

Claymont's cheeks dimpled when a sly smirk wiped across his face. "If that is the case, then your quarrel is with me, not the High King. _My_ horse the fastest in the stables."

She paused for a moment, clasping her hands. "Then I can't take it with a clear conscience—you've never wronged me. Which horse can I take?"

"I would hope that you would take none and agree to stay…as a personal favor at least"

"A personal favor?" Judith turned to face him with a raise of her brow.

"Yes. You see, I could try to convince you that you need to stay because of the dangers that lie outside the castle walls. But I know you are a woman of such boldness that it would propel you further out the door. Instead, I feel as though you deserve an honest explanation—that being that I was sent to stop you and if you were to go then it would reflect poorly upon me."

"And what makes you think that I would consider your well being over my own?"

"Because it's not hard to see that you are regal enough to put others before yourself. Which, by the way, is the very reason that I am here begging for your forgiveness instead of His Majesty King Peter."

"Because he can't make the time."

"No. Because Narnia won't let him"

Despite wanting to remain furious, Judith no longer felt the rage that had consumed her only moments before. She found that was hard to stay angry around Claymont. He had a calming presence and although he was far from dashing, his smile was so kindly that if you were to catch it fully, you would want to bask in its warmth—and for Judith, there was nothing more comforting than a warm smile.

Claymont must have noticed the change in her disposition, because his smile widened further and his face looked even more boyish when wearing the Cheshire grin. "Come, there's nothing better to calm a swimming head like a stroll around the castle," he said tipping his chin and extending his arm in a gracious invitation.

Begrudgingly, Judith accepted. Even though her anger had subsided, her pride made the transition difficult. Worst of all, she felt that Claymont somehow sensed this—and for Judith, it was dreadfully embarrassing. So at first they walked together without speaking as though their clinking footsteps replaced their voices in trite conversation. And when the silence became so unbearable that it loosened her tongue, Judith fought through the dryness of her throat to comment on various artifacts that they passed. This, of course, propelled Claymont into longwinded lectures accounting Narnian history.

"Is that all you ever talk about?" Judith sighed in irritation (stories of Narnia were the last thing she wanted to hear at that moment.)

Claymont looked heartbroken.

Realizing how harsh her words had been, she struggled to find the words that would save face. "Oh, dear…I didn't mean to offend…it's just that you seem to know everything about everyone and I don't think I know anything about you."

"I see…" he replied, gazing up into the air.

"Tell me, Claymont, about how you have become such an esteemed member of the Court? You have such a love for Narnia, surely this has been your path since childhood."

He wagged his head with a nostalgic chuckle. "The path you speak of is that of my elder brother, Corrigan—not mine. He had been knighted and our father had never been so proud. As for me, I am merely a scribe."

"A scribe?" she said with curiosity. Claymont always looked out of place among the strong faces of the Council, but now Judith was content to think of him as a scribe instead of a councilor (as it seemed to be a more appropriate fit) and she found ease in the new title.

"Yes. You see, my family has a rich and valiant history—in fact my great, great, great grandfather captained the Dawn Treader," he replied proudly. "And while Corrigan wished to continue the family's legacy in valor, I found it imperative to document it."

"Then how…"

"How have I come to lead expeditions and serve the Council?" Claymont interjected, furrowing his brow.

Judith looked to him expectantly.

"My brother…" he began with a quivering voice. "My brother was slain in an early attempt to extinguish the Treacherous Them…and while all tragedies disrupt our lives, it was Corrigan's death that set my life into motion. And as my father's dying wish was that I would pick up where my brother left off, it was my duty to trade my pen for a sword."

"Your courage is astounding," Judith admired, looking beyond Claymont's boyish face to notice that he was much older than she had assumed.

"Fortunately, courage runs through the veins of my lineage. But truth be told, My Lady, I am not the finest of kin. It was my brother who was worthy of knighthood and lordship—not I."

Suddenly, Claymont's posture stiffened upon realizing his vulnerable display and he squared his shoulders to regain any sense of propriety. "I'm sorry, My Lady," he said with a locked jaw and a gentle bow. "I have divulged in a manner that is unbecoming. You must find me dreadfully uncouth."

"Of course not," she assured him. "Never be ashamed of your humanity and please do not doubt your worth. You said yourself that everything has a purpose…and it's all just a matter of faith."

"You actually remember that?" Claymont laughed coyly. "Unless I am speaking of military strategy, I figured that no one listens to anything I say."

"You're the only one worth listening to. Or at least the only one that makes any sense around here."

"It would appear that your resentment is putting those words in your mouth," he joked with a wink.

She couldn't help but return the gesture with a chuckle, "Or at least you're the only one I can stand right now."

"The Council should be finishing fairly soon and then I must meet with the High King to discuss tactics," said Claymont with an anxious smile. "In the meantime, would you care for some tea?"

Studying his face one more, Judith hesitated to respond. "Tea would be delightful," she finally muttered becoming fixed within his eyes. "But first you must tell me how old you are."

"Twenty-six," he replied.

"I would have never guessed that you were older than both Peter and I," she admitted reluctantly. "I feel quite foolish for asking now."

"Please, My Lady, do not feel foolish."

Judith felt her cheeks become warm and she couldn't imagine how red she had turned. "I can't help it…and just call me Judith, please. There is no reason to call me 'Lady', especially when I have never referred to you as your proper title of 'Lord'."

"Very well…_Judith_," smiled Claymont, his face appearing more boyish than ever.


	18. Chapter 18: Strategies and the Study

Chapter 18: Strategies and the Study

Peter was a bundle of nerves. He anxiously awaited confirmation that the Lord of the Treacherous Them would meet on diplomatic terms, but as days with no word from any messenger passed, he feared that he had made a terrible mistake. He thought too often about how others had underestimated _Their_ cruelty and now he felt quite dimwitted to be so naive as to think that _They_ would follow any sort of honorable conduct. Overwhelmed with guilt that he had sent a loyal messenger to his doom and that he opened the floodgates for a full invasion, he paced the floor until blisters began to form on his feet and he tried to get used to the idea of his head on a platter.

Aside from the pacing, practically no one in the Court could have suspected the kind of turmoil the High King was going through. Peter hid his worries well and everyone in Cair Paravel marveled at the confidence of their High King, restoring their hope and keeping their faith in Aslan strong. Claymont was the only one aware of the burdens Peter faced, as he had quickly become the High King's most trusted advisor and even though Peter never discussed his concerns, Claymont just knew that his King was at wit's end. Perhaps it was the way that Peter stared off beyond the sea when faced with a difficult decision, or the way he leaned against the table at Council meetings when he stood (as though his knees were about to buckle beneath him). Or maybe it was the way his eyes so eagerly searched for Judith at meals and he appeared his calmest when she arrived, even though they hardly spoke more than a few words.

Neither Peter nor Judith spoke of the growing gap between them. As unnatural as it felt, Peter had his hands full with more pressing matters and Judith knew that his priorities no longer included her and so she thought it best to give him space. In truth, every night Peter hoped that Judith would unexpectedly wake him for a fight just as she had done on the night they fell from the roof. But she never did.

Judith soon discovered that a life in Narnia meant that she had a lot of time on her hands. The wives of Lords were always fluttering about the castle, and despite wanting to explore the wonders of Cair Paravel in private, she'd frequently turn a corner and stumble upon one of their frivolous social gatherings. Even when she had done her best to avoid them, a bubbly shrill would always come out of the woodworks to find her and drag her away to join them in ritualistic gossip. In fact, she began to feel hunted—as though the patterns of their matelassé gowns served as camouflage. They would stare at Judith with cold, calculating eyes and false smiles, only to shrewdly ask her about her relations with the High King.

Claymont took great amusement in Judith's interactions with the "Dame Parvenus" (as he would call them) and assured her that she could always retreat to his study if she needed a place to duck away. "They won't bother looking for you here," he assured her. "They find it far too dark and slovenly for a Lady. Which is precisely why I don't dust…it keeps the Dames away."

Claymont's study was Judith's favorite room in the castle. The walls were lined with leather books and aging scrolls, and stray pieces of parchment were sprinkled over every surface. It smelled of old paper, peppermint, and sealing wax, and Claymont would always smile when Judith ran her fingers along the spines of the books, studying the intricacies of the gilded letters and the cracks in the bindings of books that he had read a dozen times over. Although he was nearly as busy as Peter, Claymont never minded when Judith lingered about his quarters while he worked and he'd often take the time to explain what he was doing, show her his many maps, and enlighten her with the intricacies of strategic warfare.


	19. Chapter 19: Faith and Dreams

Chapter 19: Faith and Dreams

"I don't know," sighed Judith. "I guess I just have to see it to believe it."

Claymont looked up from his papers. "Believing has nothing to do with your eyes."

"But it helps," she said leaning forward in her chair, bridging her forearms gently on the dark, dusty wood of Claymont's desk. "How can you have such blind faith?"

This time, Claymont kept his eyes on his work and in the midst of scribbling something in sepia ink, he monotonously replied, "You would have to be mad to think that you see with just your eyes."

Judith groaned and then jumped out of the chair to graze along Claymont's small library, plucking books from the shelves aimlessly and flipping through the pages quickly only to nestle them back into place. "You'd think that after everything, I'd be more inclined to believe in _anything_. I used to. I would dream of a place like this…but now that I'm here, I want nothing more than to go home. Things are just so different here…I can't make sense of it. Every day feels like a losing battle."

Lifting the nib from the paper (letting a few drops of ink splash haphazardly), he gave her his full attention. "I'd imagine it _would_ feel that way—trying to move forward while you're holding onto the past."

"I suppose," she muttered as she held back tears. "But how do you let go when everything now has changed?"

"You do it with faith," he told her with a soft smile.

"So you are telling me that if I believe in a lion, everything will right itself?"

Claymont returned his attention back to the many papers on the desk. "Not at all. That is of your own accord. But Aslan will be there to guide you if you let Him."

"But what of your country? Narnia is in peril and no one has even seen Him…"

"He has sent us High King Peter. And you, Judith."

"Why me?" she asked, slouching back into the chair across from her friend.

"Only you can answer that," he replied. "Perhaps if you spoke to King Peter then you could…"

"I can't talk to Peter anymore," she snapped, pouncing forward in her seat and grasping at her knees. "Your High King is a stranger to me. That, there, is my quarrel—how could Aslan let everything I've ever known and loved vanish so suddenly only to leave me in a position where I hardly know myself?"

Claymont froze. After a stale silence he raised his eyes and stared into Judith with a repulsion that she had never known. "Don't you think I've asked myself the same question time and time again?"

"Oh, Clay—I am so sorry…"

"I think it is best that I concentrate on all of this now," he stated icily as he began to write again.

Judith stood and averted her eyes. "I understand. I'll leave you to your duties, My Lord," she grimly announced with a curtsy and after waiting a moment for Claymont to say anything at all (he did not) she left the study with composure as not to let on to the hurt and shame she actually felt.

It was that evening that Judith had a very important dream. And as Judith hardly remembers her dreams, it struck her as odd that this particular dream woke her in the middle of the night. I would imagine that you are very curious to know what happened in this dream, and I promise you will hear of it in great detail and in her own words, but now is not the time. In this very moment, what is significant is that it roused Judith from her bed and took her to the window. The Narnian moon was full and brighter than it had been on any other night—so bright that it filled her chambers with a pale glow that illuminated almost every crevice and light beckoned her to bathe within in it. Judith tiptoed out onto the balcony to marvel at the great moon and that is when the ocean called out to her.

At first it was only a murmur, but as she gazed out beyond the satin beach, each wave that crashed sounded like the chime of a bell. It had been a long while since nature spoke to her the way it had when she was child, and it sung so beautifully a lullaby that she hadn't heard since she was cradled in her Gypsy mother's arms. Dressed only in a chemise, she sneaked from castle with ease (it surprised her that she hadn't been caught) and she buried her toes in the cool sand, inhaled in sea air, and listened to the water's sweet melody.

Peter had also admired the moon that night. He hadn't slept more than a wink in three days and his evenings were usually spent pacing and thinking out loud. However, on this night, the serene moon brought him some peace of mind and as he enjoyed the tranquility of the night beyond his chamber window, he spied Judith running freely onto the beach. And as he watched her throw her arms into the air and begin to dance to the rhythm of the tide, he realized how far away she really was and how much he missed her.

Without a second thought, Peter ran through the castle (forcing his way past seven different concerned guards) and down onto the beach where he had seen Judith only moments before. But when he got there, there was no sight of Judith and no footprints left in the sand. Initially, he thought that he had arrived too late to catch her—but without any footprints to prove she had been there, he began to that his tired eyes had fooled him. Then he remembered how Judith had a funny way of disappearing. He laughed and called out into the night, waiting for her to reappear. She never did.

Peter had never felt so alone. With the ocean as his witness, he made an oath to the moon that he would swallow his pride and make it all up to Judith. He promised that in the morning he would pledge his love to her just as he had planned back before they plummeted in Narnia. And neither the Judge nor the Prince of Moldova nor even the Lord of the Treacherous Them could stop him.


	20. Chapter 20: The Lady's Orchid

Chapter 20: The Lady's Orchid

The quick clacker of hooves approaching made Peter shoot straight up in his seat. He arranged a private breakfast with Judith, but he found himself alone with the impressive spread, nervously awaiting his companion.

"Oh, well isn't all of this lovely!" admired Iola, a plump and chipper faun, who had been employed as the lady's maid for several years. She was known as the eyes and ears of the castle, especially among the "Dames" and she took the title with great pride. A visit from Iola meant that there was news regarding Judith and Peter wasn't sure if her presence was a good sign.

"Well…" Peter prodded, jumping to his feet. He felt like he had been waiting all morning (when in actuality, it had been barely 45 minutes) and he anxiously peered over Iola's shoulders.

"Oh, well…" the faun stammered, losing her jovial expression. "I'm afraid Lady Judith will not be joining you this morning, Your Majesty. She isn't feeling very well."

Concern trumped Peter's disappointment. "Has she seen the physician?"

"She refuses. She insists that all she needs is sleep."

"Then we should let her sleep. Be sure that no one bothers her…but please do me a favor, Iola, and check in on her every so often," the High King asked graciously.

"Of course," the faun bowed. "Now, go on and eat—the last thing we need is to find you in poor health."

"Would you care to join me? There's no point of letting all of this go to waste," said Peter, politely pulling out a chair.

"Oh, well…I shouldn't…Oh, what am I saying? It would be an honor!" she declared with a smile. And although she had many things to tend to around the castle, she sensed the loneliness of her King and knew that everything else could wait. Besides, she was bound to dig up some gossip for later.

* * *

Judith woke to the sweet fragrance of flowers. Lavender orchids had been placed on the vanity while she slept and when she slipped out of bed to admire them, she spotted a delicate dress the color of Tyrian purple hung carefully on the dressing screen.

Iola had no hesitation about rushing into the room as soon as she heard Judith stirring. "Fauns must have excellent hearing," Judith thought. And while fauns do hear very well, Iola had been waiting for Judith to rise since breakfast, standing outside of the lady's chambers with her faun ears practically pressed against the door.

"Good afternoon!" Iola chirped, busying herself about the room. "How are you feeling? Better I hope!"

"Much better," Judith replied, rubbing her eyes.

"Let me take a look at you," said the faun as she grasped onto Judith's hands. "You're still a bit pale…well, I'll be…your eyes look as open as windows!"

"Pardon?"

"Oh, it's just a saying. It means that it looks like you've finally sussed something out. Never mind me. Let's get you ready. It's a lovely day, I'd hate for you to miss even more of it. Oh, look at this lovely new dress! A lovely dress for a lovely day! You'll look stunning in it. Oh, look at these flowers…aren't they…"

"Lovely?" Judith groaned as she slipped the dress over her head.

"Yes, lovely! Fit for a Queen, I'd say!"

Judith usually found amusement in Iola's silly fluttering, but Judith usually got out of bed before midday and usually slept soundly the night before. However, in light of the circumstances, Iola's merriment was nothing more than annoying.

"Oh, speaking of, My Dear—King Peter was asking for you," remarked the faun as she fitted Judith's bodice. "He was terribly worried to hear that you had fallen ill."

"That is very kind of him."

"Very kind, very kind, indeed!" Iola exclaimed, situating Judith in front of the mirror as she worked her fingers through the intricate lacing running down the back of the dress. "Oh, I wish you could have seen the arrangement this morning…it would have been quite the surprise. What an outstanding fellow to make that sort of time—of course, he'll be twice as busy for the rest of the day. What a shame, what a shame. I don't think I've ever seen a King make such an effort. None of us quite understand why you dismiss him the way you do—of course you've both been giving each other cold shoulders for a while now…don't think we don't notice! We're actually surprised that he hasn't taken his interest elsewhere. Oh, but you should have seen how hard he tried this morning. You must send your appreciation. After all, it's not proper for a Lady to be so stubborn. A Lady must understand that a King has important matters to tend to and his attentions may be sparse. Oh, you're such a sweet girl…you should just go on and forgive King Peter, if you don't mind me saying. Oh, don't you look pretty!"

"I most certainly do mind!" Judith exclaimed, addressing Iola only through her reflection. "I prefer my privacy and I will not discuss these matters with you."

As was mentioned beforehand, body language can convey a message better than words and this was another one of those occasions. Iola was grateful to have received Judith's glare through the mirror because (as she would tell others later), "If she had looked at me directly, there's no doubt that I would have burst into flames!"

But in the moment of her unpleasant encounter, Iola replied, "Oh, of course. It is not my place." And with a brief curtsy, she scurried out of the room.

Judith looked into the mirror with a sigh. She ran her fingers through her umber locks, plucked a modest orchid from the bunch, and placed it gently in her hair. "_The attributes of a great lady may still be found in the rule of the four S's: Sincerity, Simplicity, Sympathy and Serenity,"_ she recited to herself, studying her reflection. Despite years of forced finishing school, Judith hardly felt like a Lady.


	21. Chapter 21: Oaths

Chapter 21: Oaths

Judith stood outside of Claymont's study, her hands trembling and her stomach in knots. She knocked twice on the door and listened carefully for any sound from within. Silence. With her hand firmly on the bronze pull, she tugged the heavy door open and peered in. She slipped over the threshold into the light filtered by the dusty lead lined windows, and although it seemed like trespassing, the room was so inviting that she quickly felt at ease.

Her eyes combed through the titles of the books on the shelves—_Mysteries of the Eastern Ocean, A Cultural History of the Lone Islands, The Follies of Calormen, Battles of Beruna_—but one in particular caught her attention:_ The Restoration of Narnia._ The book was bound in rich maroon leather that was soft to the touch and the edges of the pages shimmered with gold. And so she flipped through the pages, reading about Telemarine rule and their cruelty towards Narnians and the flee of Caspian X and the return of the Kings and Queens of Old. She became so enthralled that she failed to notice the figure approaching from behind until she felt a foreign touch on her shoulder.

With a gasp, the book fell and bellowed as it hit the hard stone floor at her feet. She whipped her body around to find Claymont standing at arm's length, wearing a look of concern.

"I'm sorry to have startled you," he said, picking up the book and examining it carefully for damage. "The Council finished early…"

Clasping onto her necklace (old habits die hard), she took a large breath trying to calm her nerves enough to speak. "I came to apologize for…I was out of line and…"

Paying her no mind, he brushed his hand over the book's smooth cover. "This was a gift from my mentor. I find it very peculiar that you decided to read this one…"

"Why is that?"

Claymont slipped his hands within the cover, and holding onto the block of pages, he carefully fanned the edges until they were taut. Miraculously, an intricate painting appeared on the stepped surface of the fore-edge. Judith inspected it closer and realized that the painting portrayed a scene of Peter the Magnificent in the midst of a duel with an imposing foe (one that we know by the name of Miraz).

"It's beautiful," she whispered in wonderment, studying the impressive details.

Relaxing the pages, the painting retreating back into the gilding and Claymont took his attention over to a dingy old chest in the corner of the room. Lifting the lid (and disturbing the layer of dust settled on top), he dug out a heavy wooden box that made a loud thud when placed down on the desk. "Come look—I promise that you have never seen anything as beautiful as this."

Judith watched as he gently pulled out an object cradled in white linen, and peeling the cloth away he revealed an ancient tome. Although it showed the wear of many, many, years, the gold on the corner plates glowed, the inset jewels sparkled, and the engraving of the majestic lion roared from within the precious metal fitted on the cover. It was grander than any of the artifacts Judith had ever seen in textbooks or museum casings.

"This is one of the only surviving books of The Golden Age," Claymont boasted, his eyes fixed to it but his mind adrift. "It had been owned by King Caspian X who gave it to Lord Drinian, who passed it down to his son, who passed it down to his…and so on and so forth. And my father gave it to me on the day that he died. I swore to him on this very book that I would serve Narnia with loyalty…"

"You really must let me apologize…" she pleaded, drawing nearer to him.

His posture stiffened, his breath became shallow, and still his gaze did not lift from the tome. "There's no need. I should have had more patience with you. But I could not help being short with you…not after what you said."

"Claymont, please, I am so sorry to have put my losses over yours. I never meant to imply…"

"No. Not that. Did you really mean what you said about Peter? That he is a stranger to you?" he demanded aggressively, turning towards her with a startling glare.

She could feel the warmth of his breath against her face. "I…"

"I have become so loyal to my word on this book that I have not been loyal to myself," he declared, slipping his hand softly past her cheek—luring her to his lips.

* * *

Now we must get back to Peter, who's quick paced gait proved to be a challenge for Lord Odilon. The elderly Lord was not used to such an energetic King, especially one who suddenly dismissed the Council with little reasoning.

"But Your Highness, we haven't even begun to discuss the possibility of incursions from the Ettinsmoor…"

"Odilon—we spent the duration of the day yesterday assessing any risk of invasion from the North. There is nothing more to discuss."

"We must take all precautions—we know far too little of our enemy to be so sure," the Lord argued.

"The Council has been working relentlessly, we have accounted for every possible scenario, and Claymont's strategies are brilliant. Avian reconnaissance has been utilized to the fullest extent and until we receive news, we cannot prepare for anything else. So as difficult as it may be, we just have to wait," he assured Odilon with a hearty pat on the back. "Now, if you'll excuse me, we can reconvene with the Council tomorrow to discuss any further developments with confidentiality."

Odilon furrowed his brow and watched as the High King sauntered away with a light stride and a mind distant from war. It was true that Peter's thoughts were elsewhere—they were between him and the moon and although he wasn't able to fulfill his oath by morning as he promised, he was sure that the moon wouldn't mind. By a stroke of luck, he happened across Iola, who was twittering about the corridor between the ladies chambers, catching up on her chores.

"Iola," he called to her, approaching the faun boyishly (or rather as boyish as a High King can look in regal attire).

"Oh, Your Highness! What a surprise to see you here…if you seek Lady Judith, I'm afraid that she is no longer in her chambers."

"She is well?"

"Quite well. And cheeky."

"I'm glad she's beginning to feel like herself," he laughed.

"Uhmph," she groaned, but then in realizing her disrespect she tried to disguise it as a cough. "Oh, she's a delight, that one. Isn't she?"

"Nice try," he winked. "Now, can you tell me where she is?"

Iola's leaned in as though the information was very precious. "Oh, well, Faera told me that Lady Calonice told her that Attica saw Lady Judith wander into the scribe boy's library."

"Are you referring to the study of the _Lord_ Claymont?" he corrected her.

"Oh, is he a Lord now? Ah, well, I suppose he is, isn't he? It's hard to keep track now a days, isn't it? Does anyone call him 'Lord'? I suppose we should, shouldn't we? Ah, he'll always be 15 years old to me. I used to serve his mother, you know, before she passed. She was the sweetest…"

"Iola!" Peter chimed impatiently.

"Oh, right. Yes. That's where she is… in _Lord_ Claymont's study. But you didn't hear it from me."

"Of course. Thank you for your time. You certainly are the eyes and ears of Cair Paravel!" he grinned, rushing off with a spring in his step.


	22. Chapter 22: Doors and Disclosures

Chapter 22: Doors and Disclosures

The problem (or advantage, depending on whom you speak to) with castle doors is that because they are so heavy, it is unlikely that they will budge unless forced by hand. This holds true for opening doors as well as closing them. And while Claymont always kept his study door closed, he had been so distracted by the sight of Judith that he had neglected to tug the door shut behind him. This was an oversight that haunted him for many nights, since High Kings cannot see through thick castle doors and they tend to be polite enough to knock. However, High Kings can see perfectly well through an open doorway and this is how Peter witnessed the ill-fated kiss.

You might be inclined to think that that Peter would holler and raise his fists for a fight or worse, rush into the room with his sword drawn. But Peter had learned that impetuous acts only make for more trouble and so he loomed in the doorway, almost convinced that he was merely having a nightmare. Perhaps it was his shadow creeping along the floor, or perhaps the couple had sensed that they were being watched, but Peter did not go unnoticed for long.

Peter stared at Claymont and Judith and they stared back at him—eerily silent and idle like paintings hung on opposing walls. At first Claymont tried to stand fierce with his hand hovering over the dagger hung on his belt, but he knew that he would never unsheathe the blade to threaten the High King, even if Peter advanced at him with deadly blows. And when he began to step forward to shield Judith in a protective stance, she clasped onto his arm to keep him still.

With a single word, Peter commanded Claymont to leave and although he was never the bravest, Claymont certainly wasn't stupid nor was he weak-willed. While others of less character may have argued, groveled or sloppily dashed towards the door to escape, Claymont kept his composure and simply obeyed his King's word. He left the study calmly and with his dignity, even though it was clear he was shrouded in shame.

"I'll deal with you later," Peter said over his shoulder and Claymont responded with a respectful bow of his head as he slipped out through doorway.

The air seemed to turn stale. Suddenly the study lost all of the comfort Judith treasured and the books became judgmental spectators sitting high on their shelves, housing beloved stories of the man she had betrayed. She wondered if someday their pages would label her as a fiend and as her mind drifted she began to hate the books more and more. The clap of the door closing startled her back into the present (Peter knew better than to leave it open) and when his shoulders relaxed, she recognized him as the Peter she loved and not the High King that overshadowed him.

"Peter…I don't know what to say," she muttered.

He bit his lip and shook his head. There were a million thoughts racing through his mind—love and hate and grief and pride—but he only wanted to ask her one thing: "Does he remind you of the Prince of Moldovia?"

"What?" she snapped with disgust. "How do you even know…?"

"Well, does he??"

"No! He reminds me of _you_! He reminds me of you before we came here and you began acting like you had something to prove," she exclaimed wiping tears from her eyes. And with that confession, the floodgate was opened and everything she harbored rushed out into the open. "You've abandoned me, Peter! I am so alone. Claymont is the only one that has bothered to get to know me and he's the only one that cares. Everyone else is only concerned with prying out personal information or telling me to be everything I'm not. Do you even realize what it's like for me here? Of course you don't…you don't even speak to me anymore! Worst of all, you're going to get yourself killed and then what am I supposed to do? You're just far too busy to even think of me."

Peter was taken aback. "I'm sorry, Judith, but where were you this morning?" he said defensively. "You stopped speaking to me, remember? And I know I've been aloof, but there are greater things at stake besides you and me."

"Oh, don't be so patronizing!" she gasped. "I'm well aware of everything that is going on, but you insist on tackling it all on your own while I am forced to watch you march to your death. I could help you if only you would let me!"

"None of this concerns you. Although you and the lot of them out there may think of me as nothing more than a chap that works the printers, I am the High King here and I am more than capable of fulfilling my obligations," he said, pounding on his chest.

Judith scrunched her face. "What are you talking about? You can't possibly think that I thought less of you because you worked at the printing house?"

Peter was unsure of how to respond. It can be dreadfully hard to own one's insecurities, especially for Kings. But fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on whom you speak to), their argument was interrupted by a rapid knock on the door. Before either could answer, the door crept open and Claymont warily entered.

"I apologize for the intrusion, Your Majesty," he bowed. "But we have just received word that the Lord of the Treacherous Them has accepted your invitation and a small procession was spotted approaching along the Great River."

Peter's entire disposition shifted. "How close are _They_?"

"_They _are likely to arrive before sundown," Claymont replied.

"Assemble the Council. We have little time," Peter said gravely, urgently following his advisor from the room.

"I'm coming with you," Judith called after them, bunching up the skirt of her gown in her fists so that she could keep up with their hurried pace.

Both men stopped and addressed her with a similar confounded gaze.

"Fine," Peter groaned coarsely. "But you must stay silent. An outburst like last time could cost me my head."


	23. Chapter 23: The Lord of the Treacherous

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Chapter 23: The Lord of the Treacherous Them

The sun hung low in the sky and Peter stood on the castle terrace watching the Lord of the Treacherous Them arrive. The procession was small and crude, but the brute of the marching men overwhelmed any onlookers and the townspeople hid behind the barred doors of their shops and homes. Weary horses pulled a tattered wooden wagon that carried the sinister Lord and chained to the yoke was the Narnian messenger, beaten and barely alive, forced to guide the convoy on foot. The driver whipped at the horses and the messenger ruthlessly until they reached the gates of Cair Paravel where the messenger fell to his knees in agony. All of the men jeered and spat on him while they freed him from the chains and the armored fauns at the gate rushed to his aid. Peter could no longer watch. He had just witnessed a display of mercy from the Treacherous Them and its brutality sickened him.

The Council convened in the Great Hall and all of the Lords wore fine leather jerkins with their swords tucked in their scabbards and strapped to their sides. It was important for Narnian government to present itself as organized, united, prosperous, and most of all, powerful. Intimidation is a potent method to practice in times of conflict and although the Narnians could never (nor would ever want to) match the cruelty of the Treacherous Them, they hoped that a strong front would dissuade the wretched clan from waging war. Peter stood at his throne, wearing his crown proudly and centered amidst the line of councilors with Lord Odilon to his left (the grave Lord appearing more severe than usual) and Judith to his right. Despite the objections from many of the lords, Peter insisted that Judith be there at his side and she bit her tongue to hold up her end of the bargain. Claymont stood beside her, and although he wore the same statuesque gaze as Peter, he periodically glanced over to check on her well-being. For that small gesture, she had never been so grateful.

Six grisly men of notable size entered the Great Hall, swaggering through the line of armored centaurs, all wearing gritty scowls and blood stained clothing. The group of men parted and saluted a seventh gangly man who approached from behind—undeniably their Lord. He was dressed in patches of skins and furs and his lax strut mocked the formality of the Narnian Council. He had a jagged face and a sharp crooked nose and his hair was dark and disheveled. Peter felt his breath become short and he heard a faint gasp from beside him. The Treacherous Lord must have also heard the gasp because he looked at Judith and then at Peter and then laughed with such sinister gusto that it almost shook the castle walls. And so it came to be known that the infamous Lord of the Treacherous Them was none other than Fernes, the adventurous Gypsy with the parchment maps, the amulet of beasts, and the knowledge of the Amphisbaena. (And if you have forgotten all of these things, let it be a reminder of the importance of noticing details, learning names, and recalling stories of old.)

Fernes was older and wilder, and his eyes no longer carried the excitable glint that made him enchanting. Instead, it was replaced by a madness that seeped through his pores with the foul stench of hatred. "Ahah-ha! The universe has so many facets, but how it weaves in my favor!" he cackled. "I knew you had heart of king, but had I known this much I would have taken your head then and saved myself the trouble!"

The Council turned to the High King with perplexed faces. Peter kept his stance firm as not to show any sign of weakness. "On behalf of the crown I implore obeisance and by the edge of my blade I demand it."

"How you play the part well for your men, but I remember the tremble in your handshake when you were a boy." taunted Fernes with a ridiculing bow. "Oh, the humility you must feel knowing you could have stopped me then. But we all regret the naivety of past. Even I did not know how great I would become!"

"You are far from great, Gypsy…" Peter sneered.

Fernes dismissed the hostility and addressed Judith with twisted smile. "Oh, Cousin. You are a sight for sore eyes. I knew you would make it back to us. We need you as much as you need us…so says the amulet around your neck."

She clutched onto her necklace, frightened by the fanatical look in her cousin's eyes.

"Your fate is here, among your people," he continued. "I promised I would take enough to give you half…and now help me take all of Narnia so you can help me rule it."

Judith could no longer withhold her agitation. "How dare you! Do you find me so weak as to give in to such wicked temptation?"

"Weak?" he gasped. "You are anything but weak. I simply want to give you everything you were ever meant to have. And that, you can only take with great strength."

"You're blooming mad!" she scoffed, and hushed snickers snaked through the line of Narnian lords. Even Peter wore a smug grin. But Fernes was a man finely skilled in the art of persuasion and people of that sort should never be taken lightly.

"Wait! There is so much you need to know!" Fernes pleaded to Judith with gaping eyes. "Haven't you wondered about the mystery behind your heritage? Didn't it strike you odd that family tree can only be traced so far? But I have sought truth and learned great deal. This is our Motherland and it was once ruled by fierce and powerful King named Miraz. You and I branch from the royal lineage of King Miraz and his only son! And it was by the double-crossing hand of the Peter the Magnificent that our noble ancestor king was slain and our people exiled."

The Great Hall grew cold and quiet. As serious as things had been, it all suddenly felt far worse. The resistance that once embodied Judith vanished and she appeared vacant. Discovering one's origins can be a delicate matter, especially when they inspire an unlikely revelation.

"You know nothing of what you speak!" Peter declared angrily.

"Judith, my cousin…together we can take it all back!"

"Don't listen to him, Jude," said Peter, looking firmly at her.

"Our people were promised good fortune away from Narnia and instead we wandered destitute with meager parlor tricks disguised as luck," Fernes hissed with passion.

"Enough! I'll not hear another word of it!" she shrieked, grasping at her head.

"Believe me child. You know it true in your bones. Why do you think they hate you so?" Fernes remarked, the gold of his teeth creeping from beneath his lips. "There's no place for you here, with them. Come and rule beside me! It is the birthright you deserve!"

Judith felt pierced by scornful glares. She glanced over at Claymont, expecting to feel his warmth, but he stared solemnly at his feet and for a moment she thought heard a rapid beating from within his chest as though his heart was about to burst. And then all she could hear was Peter's voice, struggling to retain strength.

"Jude, don't listen to him. You're better than that," he said, the delivery wavering between a plea and a command.

"He knew, my dear Judith. He has known all this time and never said a word. He never wanted you to know of this place because he wanted to dilute and drain you—just like what happened to your mother," Fernes said reaching out to her. "Your mother was once a princess and she gave you that necklace because she wanted you to be a queen."

For a King, there is no greater danger than to express love for another in front of an enemy. There are numerous reasons why, but the underlying rationale is as follows: While love is a powerful force, to possess it in its truest form requires humanity—and to an adversary as corrupt as Fernes, humanity symbolizes vulnerability, with matters of the heart being the most vulnerable matter of them all. Peter, who was fortunate enough to feel love so deeply, was well aware of such danger (which is why he hadn't wanted Judith attending the meeting in the first place), and it serves to explain why he kept his responses so cold. However, as he watched Judith become ensnared by the truth Fernes spun, he knew that she deserved to hear the one thing he had always wanted to tell her.

Peter took a cleansing breath and turned towards her humbly. At first he had great difficulty beginning and after several attempts halting after a single syllable, the words flowed freely and eloquently like a marvelous piece of prose. "There _is_ something that I have known for quite some time and I have kept it from you not because you weren't worthy of knowing, but because I thought I was going mad. I know now how unfair I've been letting it go unspoken between us for so long, but please know that it is something I have said many times while you were too asleep to ever hear me and written in letters that I never had the courage to send. Even now, after everything, I love you."

Had it been another time or another place, perhaps the moment proceeding would have been beautiful. Instead, Fernes' relentless laugh echoed through the hall and it was soon joined by the snorts and grunts of his men. The Narnian Council started to whisper among themselves in disbelief and some of the lords were unsure of the action that they should take. But the commotion came to an end as quickly as it began. In one seamless swoop, Judith seized Claymont's sword from his belt and holding it offensively, she stepped carefully towards Fernes. The Treacherous Lord raised his palms and backed away slowly, but then Judith stopped and in a swift pivot she turned and held the point of the sword at Peter's throat.

All of the Narnians reached for their swords (except Claymont who had no sword to grasp and was too befuddled to react anyway), but Peter slowly signaled for them to lay down their arms and they reluctantly obeyed. He was careful not to breathe too heavily or even to swallow, for Judith held the sword so firmly that the slightest of jolts would graze his skin. Fernes and his men unsheathed their crudely hammered sabers and ran to Judith's aid, threatening any Narnian that dared to move.

"I'm so sorry," she muttered, looking deep within Peter's eyes as she lowered the sword and backed away to stand beside Fernes.

Peter fell to his knees, gasping for air, watching the Treacherous Them rejoice as Fernes planted a burly kiss atop his cousin's head. Several lords rushed to help the High King to his feet, while Lord Odilon waved about wildly, screaming for the doors to be secured and the fiends to be seized.

"No," Peter objected. "Let them go."

"But Your Majesty, we can subdue them in this very room!" protested Odilon.

"I have men positioned in very strategic places," Fernes interjected ferociously. "I promise that if we do not walk freely, the castle will burn to the ground!"

"Let them go," Peter said once again and the guards grudgingly threw the doors opens.

"Prepare your troops, Little King. In one week's time I will have your head," Fernes called out as he, his men, and Judith, marched from the Great Hall.

Peter's eyes followed Judith as she walked away. She only turned back once as she pulled the orchid from her hair and threw it on the ground behind her.


	24. Chapter 24: High Treason

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Chapter 24: High Treason

"How could you have let this happen? Don't you know to guard your sword?"

Claymont stood motionless with his head hung past his shoulders as he was forced to endure a barrage of enraged remarks from Council members. It had only been moments since the Treacherous Them departed and everyone seemed to be at loose ends, looking for someone to blame.

"Of course he doesn't. He's just a scribe," another lord squabbled. "You forget—he's not Corrigan."

"In his defense, was he to suspect villainy from the girl?" remarked Columbkille.

"Hmph," Phinean snarled. "I knew she wasn't to be trusted,"

"That's quite enough," echoed Peter's voice through the Great Hall.

Phinean bowed his head apologetically, but Peter paid him no mind. The High King had his sights on Claymont and he approached him like a hungry fox closing in on a rabbit tangled in gooseberry netting. He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword and his posture remained stiff as he paced across Claymont's path. All of the lords grew silent.

"What does she know?" he asked with great authority.

Claymont lifted his head as not to address his King with disrespect, but he hadn't had his wits about him yet and the question caught him off guard. "I don't understand," he stuttered, his eyes following Peter back and forth.

"You spent a great deal of time with Lady Judith, did you not?"

"I did."

"In your study?"

"Yes."

"While you worked?"

"Sometimes."

"And so I ask you again…what does she know?"

Claymont grew very pale. His eyes widened in realization, and the corners of his mouth drooped as his jaw unhinged. And as his mouth fell open, out tumbled the words that made all of Narnia still: "She knows everything…"

The lords looked to each other with dread, hoping that they had all misunderstood the implications of the phrase. "Say it isn't so. Assure us that you haven't compromised our army?" shouted a worrisome lord.

But Claymont said nothing in return.

"Your insolence has become a burden," Peter growled. "For your crimes of high treason, I strip you of your title and hereby banish you from Narnia. You may take your horse, but pack lightly. You are to be gone by sunrise."

"Please, Sire, take mercy on me and grant me death instead. Let me ride first wave of cavalry in battle. I'll surely be slain and it would spare the life of a better soldier," Claymont pleaded, falling to his knees.

"What makes you think you deserve the honor? I won't sully the reputations of all those that have given their lives for a country that you've so carelessly betrayed."

Claymont wiped his brow and after mustering up all of his courage, he stood to address his fellow lords. "Have I not served this Council well? Have I not worked painstakingly for hours while you all have dined leisurely and bickered fruitlessly among yourselves? While I admit to the terrible judgment in my loyalties, I have betrayed Narnia no more than our High King has by bringing a traitor into our Court, feeding her our food, and disguising her in our clothes…" Claymont then turned to Peter, and ever so quietly he said, "Your quarrels with me are your own, not Narnia's. Only a coward would settle this by hiding beneath a crown."

Had you asked some members of the Council, they might tell you that they spotted a brief smile on Peter's face right before he swung his fist and knocked Claymont to the ground. "You had no right to touch her!" he roared and when he raised his eyes he met the alarmed stares of the councilmen.

Claymont righted himself carefully and sat on floor, wiping the blood from his lip with the back of his hand. All of the Council gathered around and when it almost looked as though Claymont was about to stand to continue the fight, Phinean (whose height enabled him to see eye to eye with his fallen friend) mouthed with great annunciation, "Stay. Down. And. Shut. Up."

Being the voice of reason, Columbkille stepped forward to Claymont's side, bowed his head to Peter and said, "Your Majesty, I mean you no disrespect, but it is clear that there is more behind this row than what concerns the Council. On the behalf of an honorable man who has given much of himself to serve Narnia, I beseech you to wait for matters to cool before deciding his fate."

"Your concern is admirable, but my decree still stands," Peter replied firmly.

"And I stand by the word of my King," said Odilon, looking down at Claymont. "Your father was a dear friend and your brother was the finest warrior I've ever known. You are an earnest boy, and although I could never mistake your intentions as malicious, you disclosed confidential information beyond the confines of this noble Council and that act has jeopardized our entire defense."

One by one each member of the Council agreed, even Phinean and Columbkille. (Despite their camaraderie, they could not deny that their friend's error had put all of Narnia at risk.) Claymont got to his feet and solemnly bowed to acknowledge the Council's allegiance to the High King.

"You are to be gone before the sun rises," Peter said and the Council turned their heads as not to witness Claymont's shame when the guards escorted him from the Great Hall.

Peter looked to the ground and at his feet he noticed the orchid that formerly sat so gracefully in Judith's hair. Now the flower lay on the cold stone and its once lush, lavender petals were bruised and beginning to wilt. He knelt down and picked it up, cradling it carefully in the palm of his hand.

"Your Majesty, it's been a trying day and you need some time to rest," said Odilon.

"There is no time to rest. We only have a week to get this all sorted."

Odilon put his hand gently on Peter's shoulder to console him. "It's true that we have been terribly inconvenienced, but we can reconvene in the morning. We'll all be much more productive then."

"I suppose you're right," said Peter, lifting his eyes from the orchid. And he bid the Council goodnight, retreating to his chambers with hopes that some time alone with his thoughts would better prepare him for the week to come.


	25. Chapter 25: Swords and Scrambles

Chapter 25: Swords and Scrambles

Peter sat by the fireplace in his bedchamber. The breath of his sighs made the flames jump, but no matter how they danced, they couldn't distract him from his troubles. He opened his palm to examine the orchid once more, and with a quick flick of his wrist, he fed it to the fire. Judith was gone and there was nothing he could do about it. He had never endured a pain greater, but Narnia depended on him and for the sake of his kingdom he had to let her go. He wanted to scream and cry and hurl objects across the room…but none of that would change anything (nor was it very kingly) and so he just sat there, content with watching the flower burn up and turn to ash.

The truth of the matter was that he felt very alone. He realized that he had never known Narnia without his siblings and it was very strange to think that he was truly on his own for the first time. Whenever there was danger in Narnia, the Pevensies faced it together and without his brother and sisters, Peter felt like an imposter. For a moment he was comforted by trivial recollections and he longed to challenge Edmund to a game of chess (even though he would most likely lose), or help Lucy collect precious sandstones on the beach, or watch Susan parade about the castle in a fancy new gown. And he wished he could have their advice. But they were all back home in England and so the lonely King walked to the window and stared out over the sea. "What am I doing here?" he muttered. "I don't think I can do this alone."

He had not seen Aslan once since his arrival, but he knew that the Great Lion had a plan ("He must, otherwise I wouldn't be here at all," he thought) and he tried his best to persevere. This isn't to say that he didn't have his doubts. "Could Aslan have expected Judith's betrayal?" he said to himself, reclining on the window seat. Feeling overwhelmed, he closed his eyes to stop his head from throbbing, but his mind would give him no peace. If he had been called back to Narnia even though he was told he would never return, then all he could figure was that his purpose was to protect Judith. After all, her knowledge of the Gypsy clan could have been useful and it was probably the reason why she had been brought to Narnia in the first place. Peter feared that he had made an awful mess of things.

An endless list of uncertainties flooded his every thought. Perhaps if he had not made Judith feel so small, she would still be there. Or if he had explained his history with Narnia, maybe she wouldn't have sided against him. Or if he had snatched the map from Fernes during their first meeting, the Gypsies would have never found Narnia. Or if he had just killed Miraz in the duel, everything could have been entirely different. Or, or, or…

Peter woke in the morning to the sound of hooves clapping in the castle courtyard. He watched out the window as a messenger dismounted hastily and handed Lord Odilon a piece of parchment. The Lord looked bewildered upon reading the letter and as he marched back into the castle, Peter knew that there was more bad news waiting for him. The worst of it was that he would have to address the Council with confidence, but he still did not have a plan of action.

"Come on then. What would Ed do?" Peter grumbled, tapping on his head in frustration. He tried imagining what his brother would say had he been there to face the Treacherous Them and when he closed his eyes tight, he could picture Edmund's eyebrow raised with suspicion when Fernes' men unsheathed their swords. The curve of the blade looked all too familiar.

"Wait a tick…" he said, jumping to his feet. Without haste, he dashed from his chambers to summon the Council.

**oOo**

"Your Majesty, the Treacherous Them have sent a formal declaration of war. It's most insulting," Odilon sneered, handing the letter to the High King. "It appears that Lady Judith has dubbed herself as the _Divine Conqueror Of Your Empire._"

Peter read through it and was surprised to see that Judith had signed the document under Fernes and she had done so exactly as Odilon described:

_Lady Judith_,

_Divine Conqueror Of Your Empire_

At first he was confused by the odd and insulting choice of title, but after studying the letter for a few long moments, a large smile wiped across his face. All of the Council stared at him with horror.

"Surely Our King does not find humor in this?" Phinean groaned with cynicism.

"No, not humor. Hope. This letter confirms everything I suspect," Peter assured the Council. "But I should not smile. Not if this is any indication of what is in store."

"Sire, please. Enlighten us."

"I happened to notice something very peculiar about our treacherous guests," Peter began. "The sabers _They_ carried were of their own unique mold, but they were remarkably similar to scimitars I had encountered long ago. I do not think I am mistaking when I say that _Their_ swords are of Calormene design."

"But the Calormenes would never carry weapons of such inferior craftsmanship…" one lord objected.

"No, but craftsmanship hardly matters when you are covertly supplying weapons in mass to foreign rebels," another realized.

"And of the letter?" Odilon asked.

Peter held the paper in the air for all of the Council to see. "The letter itself is a declaration of war. However, the signature is a code. _Divine Conqueror Of Your Empire_. The first letter of each word is capitalized: _D-C-O-Y-E._"

"Decoy!" a choir of councilmen shouted.

"Precisely," Peter smirked. "It would appear that Lady Judith has set out to warn us of the true nature of this battle."

"It would explain why _They_ insist on engaging us in war knowing well that our numbers exceed theirs," Odilon remarked.

"By the Lion! Are we to assume that _They_ are only meant to distract us while Calormen prepares for an invasion?" a lord asked warily.

"We need some more evidence to be absolutely sure, but intuition tells me that we must send word quickly to Archenland to warn them to watch for Calormene troops," said Peter. "I fear that this is much bigger than we could have ever imagined."


	26. Chapter 26: Appointing the Admiral

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Chapter 26: Appointing the Admiral

Time was a factor working against the Narnians. With less than a week to build a proper defense it seemed near impossible, but all of Narnia banded together to put plans into motion quickly and discreetly. The most efficient source of information came from the birds since they could travel inconspicuously, pass messages between each other, and perch within earshot of anyone suspicious. From what they could gather, Calormene military ships disguised as merchant vessels had been spotted squatting north of The Lone Islands. However, news from the south was scarce, but an extraordinary little Swallow had made the journey all the way from the Great Desert just to tell the High King that he had seen Calormene cavalrymen resting at the oasis. Peter commended the little bird for such speedy determination and the Swallow replied, "It was hardly a trouble Your Majesty, for I can glide to save energy and feed from the wing to save time and so I didn't need to land at all until I reached Narnia." And Peter thanked the Swallow again and promised him a comfortable nest to ease his tired wings.

Peter knew it was of most importance that the Treacherous Them and the Calormenes believed that the Narnians remained ignorant of the greater scheme. This made it extremely difficult to send soldiers to support Archenland forces on the borders, but word made it to Narnians in the south and they rallied to join their allies over the mountains. The rest of the army would fight on the battlegrounds hoping to flank and surround the Treacherous Them before they could be joined by Calormene forces, but even Peter was apprehensive since he was unsure of what artillery the rebels had acquired.

Peter left Cair Paravel in the hands of Lord Odilon and joined his army in camp the day before the battle. He would have preferred to attend to his troops sooner, but circumstances forced his attentions to be spread thin. He tried to keep faith in the strength of the Narnias and he knew that the war-ready centaurs prepping the infantry were phenomenal at their trade, but he couldn't help but wonder if all of the hasty arrangements were a part of the enemy's plan. Perhaps he had put his faith in Judith so blindly that he didn't realize it was a trap.

Night crept up the horizon sooner than expected, or at least it felt that way to the soldiers setting camp. The wind blew in heavy gusts and the popping of air bouncing off of the taut tents filled the dark with a noise that no soldier wants to hear as he drifts off to sleep wondering if he will live past the morrow. Even Peter, seasoned to war through his lifetimes in Narnia, questioned his own mortality (though he would never admit it to anyone there at camp). Before retreating to his tent, he surveyed the grounds to keep the spirits of the troops high, but mostly to calm his nerves and tire his body enough to sleep.

Columbkille had graciously volunteered to guard he High King's tent ("No foe dare cross a Panther," he had proudly exclaimed) and the wildcat bowed his head as Peter bid him goodnight, slipping within the canvas shelter. Peter sighed and his shoulders slumped (it is hard work maintaining a kingly posture). He unbuckled his belt and slung his sword beside the hammock, but as he glanced over at his finely polished armor, he could see a distorted silhouette reflecting within his helmet. Calmly but quickly, Peter grabbed for his sword and turned to face a cloaked figure that had been shrouded by the shadows.

"Show yourself!" Peter demanded, holding his sword steadily.

The figure stepped forth into the dim light and slowly pulled the cloak's hood down. Peter squinted his eyes to make out the figure's face through the lantern light and was taken aback to see Claymont standing before him. The scribe was worse for wear and hardly recognizable—it was clear that the wilderness away from Cair Paravel had not been kind and had aged his boyish face in a matter of days. Coarse whiskers crept up his neck and sprinkled his jaw, his face was splotched with scrapes, bruises and deep cuts, and his lip had not yet mended from when Peter had struck him. But most noticeably was the blood soaked cloth, now dried and muddy, wrapped around his head to bandage his left ear. Despite his dreadful appearance, his eyes were calm and he knelt with a humble dignity at Peter's feet.

"What is the meaning of this?" Peter shouted with disgust.

"My King, I do not seek your forgiveness nor do I deserve it. I have only returned to bring you news of the enemy from Lady Judith," Claymont replied, keeping his head down and his eyes fixed on the ground.

Peter's disposition suddenly changed. He lowered his sword and his voice filled with eagerness. "You have seen her?"

"Aye. She camps with the Treacherous Them and plays the part well," Claymont said, no longer afraid to lift his head. "_They_ had captured me not far from the Shuddering Wood and held me for interrogation until Lady Judith aided my escape. She worried that her coded message had been too cryptic and I promised that I would find you to relay the information."

"Well…what information do you bear?" asked Peter, hiding a grimace as he looked upon the scribe's battered face.

Claymont paused for a moment and then recited what sounded like a report he had practiced over and over as not to forget anything. "The Calormenes plan to invade Archenland while Narnia is preoccupied with fighting the Treacherous Them in battle. After disposing of our sickly King and the young Prince in Anvard and while our army has not yet recovered, they will invade Narnia in great numbers by way of sea. However, if the Treacherous Them look as though they will not succeed in battle tomorrow, Calormen will deny any involvement."

"So that is why they have not moved…they are waiting…"

"Especially since your return, Sire. The Calormenes do not want to gamble on wild savages more than they have to."

"Did _They_ do that to you?" Peter asked, pointing at Claymont's ear.

"I gave it readily as a token of my humility, Your Majesty," he answered, lowering his eyes.

"Please stand," Peter commanded nobly. "It was brave of you to come, _Lord_ Claymont."

Raising his head proudly, the corners of Claymont's lips turned upright and beneath the bruises his face seemed fresh. "My heart belongs to Narnia and no man nor beast will stop me from serving her."

Although he would have never confessed it, Peter felt sheepish standing in front of Claymont as he saw how the scribe had such conviction. Whatever squabble they had, it was only hurting the things they both cherished and Claymont had realized it far before Peter. Narnia needed Claymont just as Claymont needed Narnia and Peter began to think that perhaps it was the same for Judith. Maybe she was better off with someone who could care for her more openly than he had. He had taken her love for granted and so it was no wonder that it had strayed.

Feeling defeated, Peter looked to Claymont with all of the envy in the world. "Tell me, is she well?" he asked softly.

"Judith? She is holding together the best that she can."

"Will you return for her?"

"No. She had made it quite plain that I am not to interfere any longer. She is an admirable woman, but I have not captured her heart. Believe me, My King, she thinks only of you," said Claymont frankly. "I feel I have overstayed my welcome. I can make my own exit or you can summon the guards to seize me again."

Peter's insides warmed with rejuvenation. He was no longer stifled by shame and uncertainty. He was no longer a slave to his pride. "Wait. I admit that I have acted hastily. If what you have told me is true, we need more help than ever if things happen to go poorly tomorrow."

"What did you have in mind?" Claymont asked with a ting of surprise.

"How are your sea legs?"

"Sailing has been a time-honored tradition in my family. I was practically raised on a schooner."

"Of course, how could I forget?" Peter remarked remembering that Claymont was the great, great, great grandson of the Lord Drinian, Captain of the Dawn Treader (a name he had been familiar with by means of Lucy and Edmund's stories). "You see, Lord Rowen currently has authority over the naval forces, but we need someone better versed in strategic development to command the navy in a pinch. There was no time to send the ships off into formation and with such little information I thought it best to keep the fleet in port to guard the coast. But if the Calormenes were to set their warships into offensive motion, our navy would have to deploy…"

Claymont's expression grew very serious and just by looking at his face you could tell that he was examining maps and cranking through pages of information all within his head. "If we sail at first word of Calormene movement we can set up defensive blockade from Galma to Terebinthia and the surrounding waters."

"Does that mean you're in, _Admiral_?" asked Peter, extending his arm for a handshake.

Claymont laughed and he heartily shook the High King's hand. "Did I even have a choice?"

"Not really," Peter grinned. "Let us get you cleaned up and have someone examine your wounds. Just looking at you makes me regret that no one could find Queen Lucy's cordial all the more."

Claymont looked at the High King with gratitude and spoke like an old soldier rather than a sheltered scribe. "It's nothing a swig of liquor and good night's sleep won't cure."

"Be sure to rest well tonight…you'll have to ride to port early in the morning."

When they stepped out of the tent, Peter put his hand on Claymont's shoulder and all of the Narnians who were around to see were both surprised and very glad that the two had made peace. Peter looked over to Columbkille and with a smirk he whispered, "No foe dare cross a Panther?"

Columbkille replied with a bow of his head and a sly smile, "Your Majesty, I never saw a foe."


	27. Chapter 27: The Lion's Standard

Chapter 27: The Lion's Standard

The early morning was lovely. While the air was colder than usual, the sky was clear and the breeze that fluttered though the foliage smelled fresh and tasted sweet and cooled the lungs of every uneasy soldier preparing for battle. Each blade of grass carried a drop of dew and following the glittering greenery towards the horizon, the Narnians thanked Aslan for the gracious gift of hope. Peter stared off into the distance where he would be leading his army and felt a trickle in the back of his throat.

Claymont looked better after a refreshing night of sleep, but even with his wounds cleaned, his appearance was still uneasy to bear. The medic said that he would heal and the remaining scars were likely to fade, but there was nothing left of his ear to salvage and his face would never look boyish again. And although it may seem unfortunate, be sure that you do not feel pity for Claymont. His disfigurement served as a reminder of the sacrifices he made and the courage he embodied. From then on, no one ever forgot to address him with his title of "Lord", no one ever compared him to his brother Corrigan, and no one called him the "scribe-boy" ever again.

A Dwarf brought Claymont a horse to ride (his horse ran off during his capture) and as he readied the saddle, the heavy clink of armored footsteps announced Peter's presence. The High King carried his worry as obvious as he carried the mail on his back and the steel on his shoulders.

"Your Majesty," greeted Claymont with a bow. "What are your orders for when I arrive at port?"

Peter looked sick with grief, but he kept his composure and replied. "Keep the fleet in being. Someone will send word of our status by midday. I may be indisposed, and so as Admiral, I trust you can make the decision of whether or not to embark."

"I hope it does not come to that," Claymont said, tugging on the saddle's stirrups to ensure that they were secure.

"Lord Claymont—you have always given me the most honest and unmerciful of truths," Peter said, taking a long pensive breath.

Claymont paused and turned towards his King. "Your Majesty, if this is about our quarrel, I should never have implied…"

"No, you were right," Peter insisted. "I was a coward...callow in so many ways, but I refused to admit it. Instead I—as you most accurately put it—was hiding beneath the crown."

"Sire…"

"No, you must listen to me. I am going off to battle an invincible lord. How one defeats an invincible being, I do not know. I have fought many powerful foes, but none that have been so blatantly adamant about my demise. If I were not to return…"

"Sire, I'll not listen to this pitiful dribble any longer!" Claymont barked. "You have an army to lead and a Lady waiting for your hand."

Peter glared at Claymont, put his hand on the hilt of his sword, and then smirked. "Unmerciful, indeed. And tell me of the Lady…did she happen to leave you with any indication of her plan to return?"

"I'm not sure that she had much of a plan…" Claymont replied regrettably.

Peter lowered his voice. "I must confide in you, Admiral. I am beside myself with worry…I do not know how to go about rescuing her."

"Then it is most fortunate that she's not the type that would wait around to be rescued."

"We are going to war and Judith has put herself in the midst of it. Am I to step aside and do nothing? If anything were to happen to her… "

"Believe me, she's far more resilient that you give her credit for," Claymont assured him. "You are right, My King—we _are _going to war. Which means you must focus on other things at present. Aslan will guide her back to us."

Peter nodded, grateful for the advice. "You must ride now before the morning wanes. I sent a message by bird last night to inform Lord Rowen of your arrival."

"Thank you, My King. I pray that Aslan's strength never leaves your side."

"And the same to you."

**oOo**

The Narnian army spanned the battlefield, awaiting the first glimpse of their enemy. Peter sat atop his horse and each soldier stood in position, silent in anticipation. This small battle would decide the fate Narnia. If they were to fail, it meant war with Calormen. The infantry, the cavalry, the archers—all held their weapons firmly, watching the horizon, waiting for the High King's signal. And then the marching became audible.

From over the ridge, the Treacherous Them appeared like wave, line after line after line of men, each large and unforgiving. They did not shimmer in silver like the Narnians. Instead, their armor was made from hide, leather, and bone and they carried sabers, flails, axes, and pikes. And although the Narnian army was far larger, a good warrior knows that although numbers help, they do not guarantee victory. Peter was well versed in such terms having been on that end of the stick, first against the White Witch and then against the Telmarines. He knew not to underestimate the power of few, and with a leader as clever and cutthroat as Fernes, only a fool would be overconfident. But surprisingly, Fernes was nowhere to be seen.

"What kind of ploy is this?" Peter asked himself, scouting the enemy lines for the Invincible Lord.

Suddenly, there was a ripple in the enemy's formation. Chaotically, the opposing forces started to disorganize from the furthest line and as a path cleared, Peter could see Fernes' face hovering above the crowd. He towered at least six meters over them and he rushed towards the front line, bobbing in the air. The Narnian archers drew their bows, but Peter commanded them to hold. As Fernes grew closer and his soldiers scattered, the Narnians could see a banner of crimson and gold waving below him. Then they saw a horse charging beneath with a rider fitted in Narnian armor, holding a standard high in the air. And it soon became apparent that Fernes had not grown incredibly tall or possessed the power of flight—it was only Fernes' head, stuck firmly on top of a flagstaff. The Invincible Lord was dead.

The Narnians strained to see which of their soldiers had slain the evil lord and as the mysterious warrior rode along the front lines, the Treacherous Them laid down their arms. Peter called for his troops to stay in formation and he kicked his horse into a gallop to cross the field. And as he neared, he looked upon the face of the soldier—It was Judith. Brandishing Fernes' head, she called over the Treacherous army with great authority and when she saw Peter approaching, she fiercely cried, "Kneel to your king, His Majesty King Peter, High King of Narnia!" And all of the men fell to their knees at her command. She then slipped off of her horse, drove the flagstaff into the ground, and knelt before Peter.

"I, Judith, Queen of the Treacherous Them, the Sole Descendent of Miraz the Usurper, declare surrender, immediately and unconditionally, leaving myself and my army at the mercy of the great nation of Narnia."

Peter held his sword high in the air and the Narnians erupted into victorious cheers. A brigade of Centaurs rushed to Peter's side and then flanked the enemy lines in order to exert dominance over the crowd. The army of the Treacherous Them began to disperse—some, like empty vessels, waited for capture. Others began to flee. But Judith remained kneeling with her head bowed, staring at the ground below her. She tensed as Peter dismounted and stood over her, unsure of what his actions would be. She didn't dare raise her eyes. She was certain that if he did not hate her, he could no longer love her after seeing the wicked things in which she was capable.

Peter sternly ordered her to stand. And when she finally looked at him, she saw a flicker in his eyes that she had never seen before. He could sense that she was trembling. Clenching his jaw, he threw his helmet to the ground and he stepped so close that she could feel the heat from his cheeks and smell the sweat from his brow. Her breath became shallow.

"I did it to save you," she quivered. "Dispose of me with the rest of them, but just know that I did it for you."

"What's the point of keeping my head if I throw away my heart?" he said as he slipped his hand onto the small of her back. And pressing her tightly to him, he inhaled her essence and began to kiss her passionately. Tears streamed from Judith's eyes and when he drew back for breath, he pulled the glove from his hand with his teeth, and tenderly wiped the wetness from her face with his thumb. "Do not let them see you cry," he whispered and when she smiled, he smiled in return and then kissed her again.


	28. Chapter 28: The Dream

Chapter 28: The Dream

Judith's eyes were weary, her skin had turned pallid, and the weight of the armor began to strain her posture—and although it was likely that she could faint at any moment, she put on strong face and insisted that Peter should tend to more important matters rather than waste his time on her. Peter, however, saw through the façade and refused to leave her side. While he had initially planned to accompany reinforcement troops south to Anvard, Peter ultimately decided that Judith needed him more than the army did. In light of the High King's decision, Columbkille and Phinean volunteered to take a regiment down to Archenland to ensure that the allied nation was safe from invasion, and if all was well, they would escort the Narnian royal family home to Cair Paravel. To tie up the final loose end, Peter asked Judith what further actions she wanted to take as Queen of the Treacherous Them, and she replied, "My crown is a defiance of Narnia and therefore I denounce it. I am just a prisoner of war and nothing more. All I ask is that my standard stay staked where it is as a symbol of the consequence of treachery." Peter found it to be a noble request, and it was ordered that no one touch the banner. And so it remained driven into the ground with the flagstaff standing tall and Fernes' head stuck atop it like a scarecrow warding off any foes.

Upon returning to camp, Peter and Judith changed from their heavy armor. Judith had no clean clothes to wear and so Peter gave her a tunic, trousers, and boots (the boots were too big and she said she didn't mind being barefoot anyway) and while Judith ate a light snack, Peter wrote three letters. The first two were formal announcements of the Narnian victory and the enemy surrender—one went to Cair Paravel, and the other to Anvard. The third was sent to Claymont upon Judith's request. This letter painted the picture that Peter and Claymont had developed the brilliant plan to send Judith as a spy, and that any spectacle made was to disguise the actual nature of the scheme. At first, Peter objected, not wanting to take credit for the brave acts that Judith had done on her own. However, seeing that the real circumstances portrayed each of them in poor light, she convinced him that it would be best if the truth remained a secret for the sake of upholding an image of strength and honor to the kingdom.

While some of the army went south, others went to round up prisoners, and the rest began to strip the camp. As they prepared to travel back to Cair Paravel, many of the soldiers chanted patriotic victory songs and Peter sung along merrily, reciting the words as though he had never forgotten them. Judith sat in the grass behind him, humming along to the melody as she watched everyone pack. She felt a little useless and she wanted to help, but Peter was adamant that she not lift a finger. She almost felt as though he was treating her like a child, but she was tired of being angry and knew that it was his way of taking care of her, so she tried her best to be content with the boredom.

Fitting the saddle to his horse, Peter turned to ask Judith if she was ready to go, but as he began to speak, he noticed that she was no longer there. A wave of panic rushed through his body as looked around worriedly, unable to see her anywhere nearby. He mounted his horse and rode through the dismantled camp, peering through the pockets of busy soldiers. His anxiety subsided when he finally spotted her tending to her horse, which had been tied along with some others on the other side of the camp. She spoke to it softly, running her palms along its silky coat, and although it was a dumb beast, the horse seemed to understand her. Soon, the other horses began nudging their muzzles against her for same kind of attention. Peter watched her from afar and laughed to himself, and as he approached, he felt strangely reunited with a friend that he hadn't seen in a long, long time.

"I thought you would ride with me," he called to her from his saddle.

Stroking her horse's forelock, she peeked over her shoulder. "This is Claymont's horse and we must make sure he gets back to the stables. And I promised him carrots and sugar cubes when we return."

"Of course," he smiled, extending his arm in invitation. "But now you have so much to tell me."

"Do I?" she said with a smirk, grasping onto his hand tightly as he pulled her up onto the back of his horse.

"Well, technically, you _are_ a prisoner of war and prisoners of war are expected to answer to interrogation."

She held onto his waist firmly and placing her lips gingerly by his ear, she whispered, "Then I have no choice but to obey, my King."

**oOo**

"I suppose it all began when Aslan came to me in a dream," Judith said wistfully as they rode through the trees.

Peter slowed the horse to a causal gait and arched his head back curiously. "You met Aslan in a dream?"

"I did. But I suspect it was very different than your encounters," she sighed. "In my dream, I was lying by a campfire in the woods and suddenly the fire died as though a gust of wind had blown it right out. But there was no wind and with the fire extinguished, there was only darkness and I was very scared of being alone. Then, through the trees he came to me, and with him he brought light and warmth, and he told me not to be afraid. He told me that my roots were dug in deep in this history and then he asked why I left you to handle things all on your own. But when I tried to explain, instead of words, sand poured out of my mouth. I was mortified and I fell to my knees trying to scoop the sand back up, but then the Great Lion shook his mane and my mouth was wet again and the sand had vanished. 'Such is the sand of time,' he said. I'll never forget it…_such is the sand of time_. And then he told me that I have idled long enough.

"When I woke, I felt wonderment in everything. My chambers were filled with light and I saw how big the moon had grown and it was so beautiful that I just wanted to climb into the sky to touch it. I went out to the balcony and when I was about to stand up onto the rail to try to reach the moon, I heard the ocean calling me with the sweetest of voices. So I went down to the beach and waves sang my mother's lullaby and as I danced, I began to feel free like a child again. And then I looked down at the sand and I thought about my dream and then I thought about how the sand was tiny bits of Narnia weathered down by the great ocean and I needed to taste it. And then…

"Wait a second," interrupted Peter with his eyebrow raised. "You ate the sand?"

"Yes."

"How was it?"

"I don't know…gritty! Do you want to hear the rest of this or what?" she jeered.

Peter tried to hold back his laugher. "Sorry, go on…"

"Anyway…then I noticed a flicker off beyond the trees and I followed it up into the woods. And what I found nearly knocked the wind out of me…it was the very same campfire that was in my dream! And so I sat by it, waiting for Aslan to come just as he had in my dream. But he never did and no matter how I fed the fire, it smoldered as morning approached. I was so tired and disappointed, but I picked myself up and sneaked back into my chambers before the sun rose. I collapsed on the bed and couldn't bring myself to wake for several hours (and believe me, Iola tried, bless her heart).

"I wanted to tell you…but I figured it would just be a waste of your time. Dreams, after all, are only dreams. But even so, when I remembered what Aslan had said about my roots, curiosity got the best of me. Even though I had no idea what he meant, I thought if I looked into Narnia's history there might be some clues. So I slipped into Claymont's study while he wasn't there and I read what I could until Claymont caught me trespassing. I must have given him the wrong impression because that's when….oh, I'm so sorry Peter…it all happened so quickly…

"It's best not to dwell on it," he replied stiffly. "Tell me about when Fernes came to the castle. Were you expecting him?"

"No, I was as surprised as you…there's no doubt about that. But when he tried to turn me, I realized what I had to do. Now, don't for a second think that I believed anything he said—it's just that I'm familiar with the way my cousin operates and I knew I would have to be just as sneaky. Things with Fernes can never be taken at face value. Never. I had to know what he was up to and the only way to find out was to play his game and earn his trust. I am so sorry for what I did to you, but it needed to be believable. I can't imagine what I put you through. Oh, and poor, poor Claymont.

"None of that matters now," he assured her, feeling the wet of her tears on the back of his neck. "You still haven't told me how you managed to save Claymont, be crowned queen, and slay an invincible lord…"

Judith became still and silent.

"Oh. That's a much more difficult story to tell," she gravely replied. "And I just don't have the energy to find the words right now."

He could hear the exhaustion in her voice and not wanting to press her any farther, he took the reins with one hand, and with the other he held her hands snug against his chest. "Rest your head. We still have a ways to go."

"Thank you, Peter," she yawned and she nuzzled her face into his shoulder, the rhythmic bounce of the horse's trot lulling her into a light sleep.

Peter kissed the top of her head lightly and tried his best to avoid any rocky terrain that could wake her. The ride took longer than usual since he kept the horse at a slower, steady pace and Judith was still asleep when they finally approached Cair Paravel. There was already a fair amount of celebration erupting, and so to avoid the commotion Peter rode around to the beach and up along a secret trail to the castle (it was something he and Edmund had done frequently in the past and Peter was surprised to find the trail still intact). Bypassing the bustling courtyard, he slipped into the back of the stables and politely raised his finger to his lips so that the Talking Horses would lower their giddy voices. The stablehand helped Judith groggily dismount and after requesting that Claymont's horse should be fed carrots and sugar cubes, Peter carried Judith up through the servant's stairway to her chambers.

Placing her gently down onto the bed, Peter tucked her under the blankets and she breathed a sigh of comfort, pulling the fine linen sheets to her cheek with a lazy grin. He set a small fire in the fireplace and then sat at the end of her bed, watching over her as she slept. And when it looked as though she had drifted away completely, he carefully stood so that the mattress wouldn't shift and tiptoed towards the door. But as he put his hand on the pull, he heard the peep of Judith's voice from behind.

"Don't go," she mumbled with her eyes still closed.

"I have to let them know we've arrived," he replied softly.

She groaned as though she suddenly remembered where she was. "Promise you'll come back."

"I swear I will," he assured her, tugging the door open.

"Peter," she said, nestling into the pillow. "I love you, too."

Stepping over the threshold and into the corridor, Peter smiled and then quietly shut the door behind him.


	29. Chapter 29: Judith's Tale Begins

Chapter 29: Judith's Tale Begins

"Took you long enough…"

Peter clutched the vase of flowers he held to his chest before they could tumble to the floor. He expected Judith to still be asleep and he made a great effort to push the door open so slowly that it wouldn't make the slightest of sounds. But to his surprise, Judith was awake, clean and dressed, and with enough energy to heartily laugh at how she startled him.

"Well, it's hard to slip away from everyone in the castle. I took to hiding behind draperies every time I heard footsteps." Peter explained, closing the door. "I wasn't that long, was I?"

Her smile widened. "It's scandalous for you to be here, isn't it?"

"I suppose it is," he laughed, placing the vase down on the vanity and sitting on the bench. "It is most improper for a gentlemen such as myself to be sneaking off into a Lady's bedchamber."

"It's not the first time, though," she said pointing at the vase. "White orchids this time?"

"I thought you'd like them…"

"Oh, I do," she sighed gently as she approached him.

Peter leaned forward and touched her cheek to examine her face. "It's good to see you've got a little color back, although you're still carrying some bags under your eyes."

"I'm fine," she insisted, averting her eyes nervously.

Sensing her discomfort, he drew back his hand. "Are you all right?"

Pausing at the question, Judith then opened the vanity drawer beside him and pulled out a large spool of silk ribbon. Peter watched her curiously, waiting for a reply. With the ribbon tucked under her arm, she pulled the orchids out of the vase, and then sat on the bed with the skirt of her gown draped around her. Flower by flower, she bent the stems, wrapping them in ribbon and weaving them together, her fingers intermingling with the materials and occupying her hands. And keeping her eyes down at the task, she took a trembling breath.

"So, you really want to know everything?"

**oOo**

_Judith rested her hand on the weathered wood of the wagon's frame as she peered through the shutters of the rickety vardo, watching Cair Paravel shrink along the horizon and disappear through the thickness of forest branches. The pounding footsteps of the burly escorts walking alongside sounded like the thunder of a hammer driving spikes into a railroad cross tie and with each rhythmic crash, Judith felt her entire being fading away into spell that engulfed all of her senses. She retreated so far into herself that she felt nothing but the relentless sloshing of the torment that swam through every last one of her thoughts: It was a bad idea to go along with Fernes. Possibly the worst idea that ever popped into her head. But it was too late to take it back. Much too late._

_Suddenly, a sharp pain perked her from the trance and she pulled her hand from the ledge quickly. A large splinter had burrowed itself under her skin, and while normally she would have cursed the sliver of wood, she found herself welcoming the agony. The truth was that she was happy to feel something—even pain. But unfortunately, the satisfaction was short-lived, as her reanimation enabled her to feel the fiery sear of Fernes' ominous stare. He sat across from her with a grin-like-snarl, tapping the hilt of his sabre, each of his bony fingertips clacking against the metal with a menacing pulse. She knew he didn't trust her. But she also knew that he wanted to._

_Driving the sharp splinter further into her palm, she put on a sinister smile and played a part that would shadow her name from then on. She despised herself as she began feeding Fernes information about the Narnian military, hoping he would let down his guard. And while he listened intensely, he still remained wary._

"_And what of your dearest Peter?" he asked mockingly, drawing a line to see if she would cross._

"_Weak, My Cousin," she replied icily. "He relishes in the stories that exaggerate the greatness of his rule as though they were truths—and the kingdom celebrates his legend, ignoring his incompetence."_

"_But what of his strategies? They are quite clever. Not the product of an incompetent King…"_

"_They are the Scribe's ideas—his closest confidant and advisor. It is from his lips that I have learned these great secrets, as only an ambitious woman can," Judith answered, the words like venom dripping from her lips._

_Fernes lapped it all up greedily and by the time that she convinced him that she was on his side, the splinter was bored so far into her flesh that there was no way of digging it out again. Her hand throbbed, but the pain was nothing compared to the sharp sting in the pit of her stomach._

_Finally, her betrayal was rewarded. Fernes told her how he followed his map and in the eye of the Amphisbaena, he and his scouts fell through a sinkhole in the desert, emerging in the Narnian Western Woods. He told her about his years of travel in the new world and how he learned of their Telmarine ancestry. He told her about the rise and fall of their people's dynasty, and the Narnian legends that gave them the gifts they used to thicken the trees and cover their tracks. And then he told her how he made a deal with a hag to become invincible, although he seemed to stop himself before she could learn any more. Judith often wondered what bargain he made for his immortality, but she dared not ever ask._

_The Treacherous Them made camp in the deepest recesses of the woods. Despite her excellent sense of direction, the path was so dark and convoluted that she couldn't place where they were. Upon their arrival, Judith was met by an army of unfamiliar, snarling faces. The crowd parted as Fernes sauntered through, pushing aside clumsy men that didn't move from his path quickly enough. Judith followed him closely, afraid of getting lost within the mass of unruly men that growled as she passed._

_It became clear that the men had not seen a clean and delicate woman in quite some time, and she did her best to ignore their torment, certain that if she kept on Fernes' heels and didn't make eye contact, they would leave her be. Despite her efforts, one man couldn't resist and grabbed her hungrily, ripping at her gown. She let out a shriek as she forcefully kicked him off, crawling along the ground to free herself from his grip._

_Fernes' ears perked at the commotion and he swiftly scooped Judith up from the dirt. Hardly making an expression, he pulled a dagger from his frock and forcefully thrust it into the assailant's groin. The crowd grew silent as the man fell to the ground, holding himself with a pathetic whimper. Fernes plucked his blade from the man's flesh and then handed the bloody dagger to Judith as though nothing had transpired. Judith took a large gulp as the crowd of eyes looked up at her._

"_Go on," Fernes prodded her. "They're just like animals…they'll never learn unless you set the boundaries."_

_Stepping forward, Judith kicked the injured man and roared over the crowd. "The next time I'm met with disrespect, I'll see to it that you all share a similar fate!"_

_Fernes rolled his eyes and pulled Judith close. "Kill him."_

"_I…can't," she stuttered._

"_Then you're not fit to lead these men," he groaned, swiping the knife from her shaking hands._

_Judith wanted to turn away, but she was frozen in place, watching her cousin slit the man's throat. Fernes cleaned the blade on the man's shirt and when he walked away, the others began to strip the dead body of anything valuable._

"_You'll have to prove yourself if you expect to rule by my side," Fernes whispered in her ear as he passed. "Come with me now. We have some business to attend to."_

_It was then that Judith realized that the only way to survive amongst the Treacherous Them was to be heartless. There were no friends, no confidants, and no allies—there was only the untouchable leader and his disposable followers. Judith knew that if she didn't take her place in the hierarchy she would die, Peter would die, and all of Narnia would perish._

"_I will not disappoint you next time, My Cousin."_


	30. Chapter 30: Tarkaans, Tents, and Trees

Chapter 30: Tarkaans, Tents, and Trees

"I swear to you that I have only taken one life," Judith pledged, looking up from her hands to meet Peter's eyes. Although she knew that as High King and warrior he had killed many foes in battle, she couldn't help but feel judged.

He didn't say anything in return. He only slouched in his seat with his hand resting pensively on his chin. It was mannerism that came with being king and with gentle nod, he urged her to continue.

**oOo**

_There were two Calormenes that took shelter in the small valley clear from the thick forests and away from the Treacherous Them. It was never discussed to why they didn't camp with the army, however, Judith suspected that the reason they kept their distance was that they feared Them just as much as the Narnians. Their names were Kajibash and Seifeth, both Tarkaans sent by the Tisroc as allied officers to oversee the supply of weapons. But their other purpose was to keep a watchful eye on the savages to ensure that the Invincible Lord could deliver Narnia as promised._

_Upon their first meeting, Judith knew nothing of Calormene culture and she was taken aback to see Fernes bow humbly in their presence. She did her best to follow her cousin's lead, and when Fernes righted his head, she did the same. But when she lifted her chin, Kajibash raised his hand and struck her so forcefully that she nearly toppled over. Without a thought, she bared her teeth and just as a barrage of insults began to creep up her throat, she caught Fernes' deadly stare. Suddenly Judith realized that she had no power when standing before these men and if she were to say a word, another slap across the face would be the least of her concerns. It wasn't her fear that made her cower, but rather, it was her wit that told her to stay silent and listen closely._

_The Calormenes carried torches as Fernes led them to back to camp, and Judith followed like a servant with her hands folded and her eyes to the ground. As the men walked, they sealed their plans to take Narnia and like fools, they discussed every detail, unaware that the girl trailing behind was taking careful mental notes. The Tarkaans commended Fernes for his stealth in retrieving the Narnia's military agenda, and while he gave Judith no credit, he slyly peered over his shoulder towards her and lifted his eyebrow. There was a peculiar gleam in his eye—one that she recognized from the past._

_The trek (uphill and through the trees) to the camp was arduous and Judith could feel her legs starting to numb in exhaustion. With each step it became more difficult to remain discreet and she nearly gasped when she overheard one of the Tarkaans imply that Fernes would govern Narnia under the umbrella of the Calormene Empire. Surprisingly, Fernes did not object, but instead praised the Tisroc (adding "may he live for ever" after every mention of the Calormene ruler.) Judith began to wonder if she was really dreaming, closed her eyes tight, and hoped that when they opened she would find herself tucked in her pillowy bed back at Cair Paravel._

**oOo**

_Fernes' tent was cluttered with papers and scrolls, powdered pigments in jars stacked atop each other, oil lamps, and various artifacts strewn over every surface. It reminded Judith of Claymont's study and she fought her face not to smile at the very thought. The Calormenes, however, were filled with disgust. They sneered at the sight of it all, either turning up their noses or poking and prodding every one of Fernes' personal possessions. Kajibash kicked aside the straw-filled mattress on the ground so he could pace properly and Seifeth carelessly brushed a pile of papers off of a small stool so he could sit comfortably. But Fernes was far too busy to notice any of it. He was hunched over a rickety table with a quill and a piece of parchment, drafting a declaration of war. When he finished, he passed the document to the Tarkaans, and with their approval, he smugly signed his name at the bottom. Meanwhile, Judith had been lost in comforting thoughts of worn leather bound books sitting proudly on shelves when Fernes shoved the quill in her face._

"_Sign it," he barked. His voice was still harsh, but the words seemed more like a request than a command._

_Judith's heart raced. She felt three pairs of eyes glaring down at her. She took the parchment and the quill, and pretended to read. She bit her lip firmly, trying to stop her entire body from shaking. It was an opportunity to warn Peter, and perhaps her only chance. Within her studies of Archeology and Classics, Judith had learned a great deal about ancient cryptography and ciphers, and yet in that very moment her mind drew a blank. She could hear the men becoming restless, and Fernes tapped the hilt of his sabre so rapidly that it mimicked a quick paced metronome. Hastily, she came up with the best acronym that she could at the time. It wasn't the cleverest coded message (wordplay was never her forte), but it concealed the message well enough and she was confident that either Peter or Claymont could crack it._

_At first she feared that her code had raised suspicion. Fernes stared at Judith's self-proclaimed title for several moments, but just when she expected him to unsheathe his sword, he arched his head back with laugher. Luck was in her favor._

_Fernes rolled the parchment tightly and tucked it within his frock. He nodded his head graciously to the Calormenes, and signaled to the door. The Tarkaans were eager to leave the stuffy tent and Fernes let them pass before him. But just as Judith was about to follow, he stepped in her path, blocking the exit._

"_Stay here. That's all I need of you now," he said with a twisted smile. Then looking at the tent's disarray, he pointed at the papers tossed on the ground. "And make this place presentable."_

"_What do you take me for?" she uttered in outrage._

_Fernes turned his back and left the tent, neglecting to answer._

_Through the canvas walls, Judith listened carefully as the men conversed outside. The Tarkaans spoke so loudly that it seemed obvious that they wanted her to hear._

"_Why is it that you allow the woman to meet your eyes and speak so freely?" asked Seifeth._

"_Why must you insist on her presence? Kajibash questioned._

"_She serves her purpose," Fernes replied in a hushed tone. "Her allegiance has ensured Narnia's kingdom will crumble from top to bottom. Come, let us take the declaration to my men..."_

_Their voices turned to murmurs and then Judith was left with silence. Her eyes filled with tears as she fell to her tired knees, scooping up the papers surrounding her. Swallowing her sobs, she lifted her head and caught her reflection in a weathered mirror propped up against the far wall. She hardly recognized herself. Her face was pale and streaked with dirt, her hair was a nest of tangles, and her lovely purple gown was in tatters. She looked as weak as she felt. She dropped her face into her lap and let out a muffled moan._

_Refusing sink into hopelessness, she wiped her eyes and clenched her teeth as she resumed picking up papers. She cursed the Tarkaans for being so disrespectful, and as she placed the pile back on the stool, she noticed a piece of parchment that had slipped halfway under Fernes' mattress. Unlike the other pages (which were either blank or packed with jumbled scribbles), this paper was organized into a chart—and when she took a closer look, she realized it was a family tree._

_Studying the tree carefully, she found her name and then her mother's name, and her grandfather's name, and her great-grandfather's name. She was able to trace her linage all the way back to the name "Vadiz", the only son of Queen Prunaprismia and King Miraz. Starting at the bottom of the chart again, she began to trace Fernes' ancestry. But every time she reached the top of the tree, she was convinced that she followed it incorrectly, and she forced herself to start over again and again. No matter how careful she was, his path always led to someone named "Feigan"—the son of Prunaprismia and her second husband. Fernes had no blood relation to Miraz at all._

_Suddenly, Fernes' voice crept up to the tent._

"_I will know the outcome of battle before the sun hits highest point in sky."_

"_Then we will ride that morning and depending on your verdict, we will give our orders to invade Anvard."_

_Judith quickly shoved the family tree back under the mattress and threw her body over by the table, pretending to organize the papers piled on top. She watched as Fernes' silhouette grew closer and she held her breath as he entered. He glared at her with the eyes of a wolf._

"_My Dear Cousin," he said, slinking nearer. "You look a wreck. Let me show you to your tent. There is hot water waiting so you can wash and there are clean garments for you to wear. I apologize for not tending to you sooner."_

"_Thank you, Cousin," she replied softly and then she warily followed him out into the night._


	31. Chapter 31: The Offering

_Chapter 31: The Offering_

_Judith woke groggily after no more than a few sporadic hours of sleep. It was surprisingly cold, and although Fernes had given her a thick, woolen cloak, the morning frost had sprinkled on every surface, chilling her awake. Rolling off the lumpy straw mattress, she climbed to her aching feet, and with a great yawn she detected the scent of smoked meat. In the doorway, she spotted a pewter plate piled with food, a chalice of wine, and a small parcel tied with twine. Her grumbling stomach dismissed all of her skepticism (she hadn't eaten anything since the day before last) and although she tried her best to remain composed, she found herself kneeling on ground, tearing at the meat from the bone with her teeth and washing it down with full gulps of wine. _

_Once her hunger was satisfied, she unwrapped the parcel and within it was a thin leather belt, a sheath, and a finely sharpened dagger. Holding it carefully in her hands, she became mesmerized by the blade. She wasn't sure if it made her feel fear or anger or pleasure. All she knew was that she couldn't look away. _

_At first, Judith didn't hear the commotion. The panicked braying of a horse in the distance echoed through the camp, and shook by the call of distress, she peeked out of her tent with all the courage she could collect. Fastening the dagger around her waist, she grabbed her cloak, and against her better judgement, followed the cries until they were stifled by grunts and groans. _

_Claymont was lying face-first in the dirt. One of Fernes' grimy soldiers raised his sabre in the air and readied the blade to slice through Claymont's neck while a small group of _Them _circled and cheered him on. Fernes was there as well, watching in silence as he held the struggling horse's reins with what seemed like no effort at all. The chants echoed through the trees and suddenly Judith found herself bounding through the air with dagger in hand. Leaping onto the soldier, she stuck the blade forcefully into his shoulder as she tackled him to the ground. The interruption startled the group and the cheers quickly became hollers as they jumped to keep Claymont captive. The horse, however, had somehow slipped from Fernes' iron grip and being the fastest steed housed at Cair Paravel, he sped off into the woods before anyone could attempt to catch him. _

"_Stop!" Judith bellowed as she spotted Fernes stepping towards Claymont with a drawn sword. _

_The fiend, slowly turned his head._

"_Stop?" he scoffed. "And spare a trespasser?"_

_Panic fluttered in Judith's head. Her mouth became dry and with a lump in her throat, she threw on the only act that would convince her cousin to show any mercy._

"_He is the High King's most trusted advisor!"_

"_All the more reason to execute him."_

"_And disregard the precious information he could disclose to us?"_

_Intrigue wiped across Fernes' hollow face. "Clever girl…if he is who you say he is, his knowledge would be most beneficial to our cause."_

"_Please, Cousin, allow me the honors of interrogation. This one is stubborn and I have a way with him," she said seductively. _

_Fernes nodded and his men scooped Claymont's limp and beaten body up from the ground. _

_* * * _

_The prisoner was bound with thick rope, his hands tied tightly to his back, his ankles tied tightly to his hands, and his mouth gagged with a dirty rag. He was thrown onto his side, and his only movement was a slow, wheezing breath. The tent was dark, but Judith could see the gleam of wetness running from his face, soaking into the dirt, leaving a dark, bloody patch under his cheek. She ran to Claymont's side and then fell to her knees, her fingers fumbling as she began to untie the gag. His sad eyes stared into hers. She was relieved to see him, but she was too afraid to speak. Finally, the knot loosened and she pulled the rag carefully from his swollen lips. Mustering up the strength, he raised his head. She smiled. _

_She smiled until he jerked forward and spit blood into her face. _

_Wiping the blood from the corner of her eye, Judith began to weep. "I deserve it. All of it."_

_Claymont only glared at her and through her tears she knelt towards him. With trembling hands, she revealed a damp cloth that was hidden in her sleeve, and she gently cleaned the fresh wounds covering his face. _

"_It's the Calormenes, Clay," she whispered. "You must believe me. You must listen carefully to everything I say…"_

_And as Judith told him everything that she had seen and heard, Claymont's eyes softened and she was able to cut through his ropes to free him without the fear that he would harm her. She helped him upright, and then sat eagerly across from him, waiting for his response. But he seemed to hardly acknowledge her, and instead his attentions were consumed by his aching limbs as he flexed his fingers to get feeling back into his hands. _

"_And what of the Narnians? And Peter? Tell me of Peter. Did he decode my message? More importantly, is he safe?" she gasped, unable to contain her concerns any longer. _

"_I wouldn't know," he answered coldly. "I've been exiled."_

"_Exiled? For what reason?"_

_He lifted his head and his sharp gaze met hers. "High treason….for aiding an enemy in the act of espionage."_

_Judith's stomach sank. "It's all my fault…"_

"_Yes, it is," Claymont replied with a calloused tone. "And now you must do everything you can to right it."_

"_I'm trying!" she exclaimed, clasping at her chest in despair. "I thought that if I could get close to Fernes I could help…"_

_Claymont jumped to his feet with an authority Judith had never known in him before. His face was wet and trickled with blood, and he stood over her, powerful and enraged. "You're running out of time! There is going to be a war and if everything you told me is true, Narnia will perish!"_

_Throwing her head in her hands, she began to sob. "What am I to do?" _

"_I don't know," he said, softening his voice and extending his arm to help her stand. "But I do know that you are in a rare position of power and you must act upon it."_

"_I'll claim what is mine…" she muttered, grasping at her necklace. "I think I have a plan, but there is no time to explain. You must go back and tell Peter everything." _

"_I will certainly die trying," he assured her._

_Fitting Claymont with her cloak, she threw her arms around him as though she would never see him again. "Be quick and silent. Go through the woods towards the East and back the way you came."_

"_And what will you tell The Invincible Lord of my escape?"_

"_I'll tell him that your ropes were not bound tight enough. I'll tell him that you overpowered me."_

_Pulling the tent's door open to a crack, he carefully peered out into the camp. "Tell him that you mortally wounded me before my escape and that I would never make it back to the Narnians. He won't waste the manpower scouring the woods for corpse."_

"_I will. Now go!"_

_Claymont froze in contemplation. "I don't think he will believe you."_

"_Leave it to me! Now go!"_

"_It will raise suspicion if your hands are clean. Give me your dagger," he said, pointing at the sheath hanging from her belt. _

"_I will do nothing of the sort!" she barked with her hand on the dagger's handle._

"_Give it to me or I will take it by force," he commanded as he took an aggressive step. "I would not sooner turn the blade on you as I would knowingly betray my country. Trust me, My Lady."_

_Hesitantly, Judith slipped the dagger out of its sheath and handed it to Claymont. He examined the blade, and then shoved a scrap piece of rope between his teeth, biting it hard with the full force of his jaw. With a growling wince, he lifted the knife to his head and after slow, agonizing swipe, he held his ear (or what was left of it) in his hand. _

_Nausea swept over Judith and upon first sight of the bloody mess, she buckled over in sickness. _

"_Why would you do that?" she moaned, unable to look up from the ground._

_But Claymont seemed unfazed by his actions and grabbed her by the wrist, forcing her to take the bit of flesh in her hand. "Hardly a worthy offering, but at least it will make a story of an altercation believable. Say you cut it from me yourself. Give it to The Invincible Lord as proof of our struggle. He will respect you for it and that respect will provide leverage."_

_She nodded with compliance, swallowing her discomfort. With a quick tear, he ripped at hem of her dress and used the material to bandage his head. She picked the dagger up from the ground and cleaned it against her thigh. _

_Taking a large breath and a final glimpse at Judith's face, he reached out and tenderly stroked her cheek. "Thank you…"_

_Careful of the fresh wound, she pulled the cloak's hood over his head. "Do not return for me, Claymont. I will find my own way." _


	32. Chapter 32: The Five Flames

Chapter 32: The Five Flames and the Blood Fire

"_You don't find it necessary to send men after an escaped prisoner?"_

"_No."_

"_Well I do!" Judith screeched, ruffling her skirt. "Look at my dress! I look a bloody mess!"_

_Fernes kept his eyes fixed on the paperwork scattered across his desk. "If you stuck that dagger straight into his gut like you said, then I doubt he made it twenty paces through that wood."_

"_And so what's the trouble? It's not far."_

"_It is trivial," he groaned, bored with the girl's persistence. "He is running from the Narnians and he most likely dead, so I do not see why I should care. You took care of him, did you not?"_

"_Yes, Cousin," nodded Judith._

"_Good. Though next time it would be wise to bring a head, not a pitiful scrap," he said, flinging the ear at her feet._

_Judith tried to hide her grimace by throwing her nose in the air. She didn't know if she could keep the charade up any longer. _

_A cool smirk wiped across Fernes' face as he pointed at the dagger resting on her hip. "How do you like your gift?"_

"_It is beautiful, thank you," she replied, glad that he had changed the subject. _

"_Perhaps it will become part of you just as my sword is part of me," he said, placing his hand protectively on his sabre's hilt._

_As Judith watched Fernes' lips slip over each of his teeth to create a sinister smile, her stomach turned and she felt as if her blood was boiling. She knew it was time to act on her plan and she couldn't let the moment escape her._

_With a careless toss of her head, she batted her lashes, and appearing as innocent as she could, her voice sweetly asked, "Cousin, I mean you not disrespect, but you have such great authority and power-why do you let the Calmorenes treat you as such?"_

"_Silly girl," he chuckled. "The Calmorenes have power you can not even begin to imagine. To be in the good graces of the Tisroc ensures vitality and strength. We are most fortunate."_

"_And what of everything our ancestors conquered? Settling to rule under a foreign government-what sort of pride is that?"_

_Fernes dropped his smile into a scowl. "I am no fool. You have an angle...what is it?"_

"_Make me Queen," Judith said bluntly, no longer pretending to be coy._

_It was the first time she had ever seen her cousin look surprised. _

"_What?" he growled, baring his teeth. _

_She tried her best to remain calm despite trembling on the inside. "The Tisroc has an heir, a son, does he not?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Then the plan is simple. Crown me Queen," she began, casually crossing her arms. "As you had said before, it is my birthright. With noble order in place, you can bargain with the Tisroc and arrange my betrothal to the Prince. Perhaps initiate it as a congratulatory gift for Calormen's contribution towards our triumph in battle. And as it appears that the Calormenes want to conquer everything Narnian in essence, surely the Tisroc would take delight in having woman once courted by the High King for his son. I'll take my place as a loyal bride, but in secret I will see to the Tisroc's demise. And after the Prince is crowned ruler of all Calormen, I will be able to do everything necessary to ensure a successful invasion and full capture of the capital. Then everything can be yours. You can accomplish more than our ancestors could dream! However, I must have full loyalty and control of the troops. Without it, the plan can fail miserably at the final hour."_

"_Full control of the troops?"_

"_Second after you, of course," she assured him. "Think of the empire we could build…"_

**oOo**

_The clamor of deep drums shook through the air and smoke of a ceremonial fire drifted between the flickering flames of five great torches-one for every unjustly crowned king after Miraz. Judith stood before the fire, her chin held high as she listened to the chants bellowing from the Treacherous army. They held their swords up with one hand and beat against their chests with the other, congregating and circling around the blaze. _

_Through the warbling atmosphere, something ugly and ominous weaved through the crowd. Its dark cloak flapped like wings, the ragged material catching in the wind, and in a hurried dance it crept about the fire, clutching its claw-like fingers around a small black box. Judith's first instinct was to run (again, she feared she was in too deep), but Fernes' icy hand grasped on her shoulder, as though he had anticipated her escape. _

_In the fire's amber light, the creature shrilled and it revealed itself to be wretched, old hag. Judith's body tensed and Fernes' grip tightened. The hag opened the box, and her solitary voice overpowered the croons of the entire army as she recited the viscous words of dark spell. She then reached into the box, scooping a handful of powder from within, and threw it onto the fire. The flames jumped into the air and turned blood red, and as the smoke grew thicker, the army grew still and silent. _

_The smoke stung Judith's eyes and no matter how hard she tried, she could no longer see through the pink haze. She felt the hag's stale breath on her neck and she fell to her knees as a lock of her hair was suddenly ripped from her scalp. The hag's dark figure danced through the smog and when the handful of hair was thrown into the fire, the smoke cleared and Judith found herself meeting the open gaze of army. _

_From above, Fernes placed a crown of whittled bone atop her head. and as the whole army bowed to their new queen, Fernes leaned in and whispered, "Now they will listen as long as you take command…"_


	33. Chapter 33: The Transaction

_Chapter 33: The Transaction_

_It was the day before the battle and the Treacherous army oiled their armor and sharpened their blades, laughing among themselves about all of the Narnians they were going to slaughter. Judith walked throughout the camp with a new ease, and although she still tried her best to watch and listen, her mind drifted and she found that it was far more difficult to concentrate with the same vigilance. Since she was crowned, the soldiers no longer eyed her with disrespect, but instead they bowed or groveled when she passed. They draped the softest furs over her shoulders, smithed her bangles of bronze, and presented her with the finest cuts of meat during meals. She hated them, and yet as Queen she had grown somewhat fond of of them-or fond her power over them, that is._

_Fernes also treated her differently. Somehow the scorn in his eyes had melted and he wore the smile of the kindhearted friend and cousin she knew as a child. For the first time since her arrival, she felt no fear. He allowed her to speak freely, asked for her advice, and openly talked to her as his equal. They laughed, and shared riddles, and sung old Gypsy tunes. Suddenly she realized that she was enjoying herself, and there were even brief occassions when she forgot all about her of her plans to sabotage the troops._

_Thoughts of apathy towards Narnia crept through her mind, and for a fleeting moment she wondered if she should even bother to stop the war. She had no allegiance to Narnia-her past was tied to to _Them_. But then she remembered Peter. Not Peter the High King, but Peter, the boy who gave her first kiss by the creek, and Peter, the man who faintly smelled like the printing house, and would hold her tenderly in his arms, and would tell her to make a wish every time he brushed a fallen eyelash off of her cheek…_

_This new conflict frightened her. _

_She went for a walk to clear her head. The leaves ruffled in the breeze and their melody fluttered through the air, cascading down the trunks of the trees. She walked, and she walked, and she thought, and she walked. The birds flew from tree to tree, chirping along the way, and she found herself following them deeper into the woods. She walked further and further, paying no mind how many hills she climbed or valleys she scuffled down. And then through the thick of the forrest, she spotted a figure in the distance. She squinted to see through brush, and peering through the leaves of a large, twisted willow, she was surprised to see Fernes. But just as she was about to call out to him, she felt a sharp pinch on her ankle and it stifled her voice. She knelt down to find a thistle pressing its prickles against her leg, and when she righted her head, she saw that Fernes was accompanied by the Tarkaans and they were walking in her direction. _

_She hid quietly in the awning of the willow, and concealed by the slender branches, she held her breath and listened eagerly for every word. _

**oOo**

"_Why have you summoned us?" asked Seifeth, with his arms crossed against his chest._

_Before Fernes could speak, Kajibash interjected forcefully. "We have outlined your strategies at great length and called the Calormene arms into place. I hope there are no changes. The Tisroc, may he live forever, would be displeased if the battle were not to progress as planned."_

"_Of course," Fernes appeased them with a bow. "I have called you here on a personal note. A proposal, in fact."_

_The Tarkaans exchanged glances._

"_A proposal? What could you, a savage, possibly have to propose?" _

"_A gift," Fernes replied. "A noble woman to present to your Prince." _

_Kajibash sneered. "You certainly do not mean the girl?"_

"_My cousin and our Queen, yes," said Fernes proudly, with a single pound of his fist against his chest. "There is no woman finer. She comes from a long lineage of powerful kings and would be a satisfactory bride for the greatest of rulers. In fact, it is common knowledge among this land that the Narnian High King pines for her..."_

_The Calormene nobles furrowed their brows and Kajibash bared his teeth. "It is insulting to think that a savage Queen desired by a barbarian King would be a sufficient offering to the Prince!"_

_Fernes was taken aback by the unfavorable response. He lowered his head and began calculating a new plan of persuasion. After a mere moment, his eyes flashed and his slimy smile smeared across his face. "I no doubt agree with your logic, but is she not a lovely specimen?"_

"_Though her looks are not entirely unpleasing, she doesn't hold a flame to the grace, obedience, and beauty of Calormene women," said Seifeth, lifting his nose in the air. _

"_She carries her shoulders too high and her tongue is too sharp, " Kajibash added with a growl._

"_Those are traits that can be easily remedied," Fernes assured them both._

_At first the Tarkaans were silent. They gestured to one another and then stepped away in private to discuss matters. Fernes watched and waited with great anticipation. After a minute of debate, they turned towards the ragged gypsy with their hands assertively on their hips. _

"_If she can be broken of her despicable habits, we will accept your offer to take her," said Seifeth. "But only as a slave."_

_Fernes' face contorted in confusion. "You wish to take our Queen as a slave?"_

"_We can give you a hen's weight in silver," bargained the Tarkaan. _

_His grimace turned to laugher, and with a sigh of relief, Fernes bowed to the noblemen. "I accept! I was only going to kill her anyway."_

_Kajibash pulled a purse of coins from his satchel. "When can we pick up our goods?"_

_Taking the purse and weighing it in his hands, Fernes nodded. "Once my army has marched, go to her tent. She will be bound securely and that sharp tongue will be cut from her mouth-a convenient package to throw on the back of your horse (or drag behind it) for the journey back to Calormen."_

**oOo**

_A white-hot burn rested in Judith's chest. Her limbs grew numb and a cloudy daze circled her head. Suddenly she found herself running, weaving through trees, jumping over logs, sprinting up hills, and sliding down into valleys. And then she saw the camp. Night was approaching and the evening lamps had been lit, the flames growing brighter as the sky grew dimmer. Gasping for air, she let her brain catch up with the fear in her feet. Her only option was to flee. She thought about running off, right then and there, but then she decided that only a fool would scamper hastily into a dark, unknown forrest without any food or supplies. Fernes didn't know she was listening-she had some time._

_As Judith approached the camp, she thought it best to remain calm. It would do no good to reveal her intent to leave, for she was certain that Fernes could find her before she even knew where she was going. She needed to slip in as though nothing had transpired and then slip out undetected. It was difficult to keep a casual air knowing that she had been betrayed, and she fought the urge to rip out her hair in frustration-not because of Fernes' betrayal, but because it was stupid of her not to expect it-or maybe because he beat her to the chase. She had allowed herself to become disillusioned, and the price was a choice between having her tongue cut from her throat and being sold into slavery or becoming a wandering vagrant. _

_She had no longer had hope for Narnia. Even if Claymont made it back to Peter with the information, could preparations be arranged with such little notice? More so, would Peter even listen? She had failed._

_Hurrying through the camp, Judith sneakily collected supplies while snootily asserting mindless tasks on anyone who approached her. Once she was safe within the canvas walls of her tent, she began to tear through whatever she managed to accumulate, throwing anything useful on the bed. She carefully rolled bits of bread and cured meat in a scrap of linen, secured it with twine, and then filled a canteen with water from the wash basin. She packed a flint stone, a steel striker, three partially burned candles, a small jar of whale oil, and char cloth. Ripping a piece of material from her old Narnian gown, she placed it flat on the straw mattress, and rummaging through the bounty, she piled the survival necessities carefully on top of it and then pulled the material into a bindle. _

_A cool breeze of air brushed along her cheek, and remembering how cold the nights could get, she turned to find a spare cloak. But on her pivot, it struck her odd that the wind had been strong enough to blow open the door, and when she raised her head, she found Fernes standing in the doorway._


	34. Chapter 34: Strong Spirit and Still Air

_Chapter 34: Strong Spirit and Still Air _

_In the warm, flickering light of the tent, his golden teeth glistened playfully upon his smile. _

"_Cousin, we have reason to celebrate! The Tarkaans will escort you to Calormen in the morning. But for now, we drink, drink, drink!" Fernes cheered, holding up two large jugs, the liquid happily sloshing about. _

_Judith swallowed hard. "But Cousin, the battle is tomorrow…"_

"_Then we will drink to our victory! Come, do not deny my gifts," he said, forcing a bottle into her chest as he held the other high in salutation. "To brave Judith, willing to sacrifice her sanctity for the conquest of her people."_

_His eyes were harsh on her as she slowly raised the bottle to her lips. The rim was cold and she inhaled deeply before letting the drink slide into her mouth. She was certain it was poisoned. And while cursing Fernes' cowardice, she hoped that the poison was strong and by taking large gulps, it would send her into a slumber that no torture could wake. Tolerating the alternative was unfathomable. One can only hope for death in such situations. _

_It tasted fresh and sweet of dandelions and figs. As she tipped the bottle back further, her head felt light and she remember how she used to help her mother pick dandelions in the late spring mornings, and they would sit in the shade plucking petals to be used for an old gypsy recipe for dandelion wine. And at the end of autumn, just when the last leaf would fall, her mother would open a ready bottle and they would share a glass with Father Frost. _

_Finishing a third of what the jug could hold, she planted herself on the ground, wiped her mouth, and waited. She waited while every twinge in her stomach startled her with the immediate thought, "This is it". _

_Fernes took a swig from his bottle and then furrowed his brow at the sight of her. "What concerns you? Is your wine bitter?"_

_Judith looked up to him, tears running down her cheeks. _

_To her surprise, Fernes' expression softened and he knelt down to her, wiping the wetness kindly from her cheeks. Taking off his cloak, he wrapped it around her shoulders and kissed her on the head. _

"_Isn't it peculiar that taste can evoke the past as such?" he pondered, sitting close to her. "Your mother always made the best dandelion wine. I even remember from when I was small boy."_

_Fernes' breaths were shallow and his eyes seemed remarkably glossy and genuine. And within the prolonged pause, Judith's head swam and suddenly everything she overheard in the woods (or thought she overheard) felt as foggy as a dream. But the wine was real and it was not drugged, poisoned, polluted, or defiled. It was her own family's recipe. _

_Feeling liberated from her fears and a nostalgic warmth from within, she smiled and her voice squeaked as she forced it from her throat. "Cousin, the wine is very good."_

_He smiled. "I've found that dandelions are sweeter here." _

"_And the spirits stronger," she added with a light chuckle. _

_They raised their bottles and the glass clinked in a toast. "To ancestry!"_

**oOo**

_It was nearly three hours until sunrise, four jugs of wine, and two concerned visits from the army's general later when something or great significance happened. At the time, Judith had not noticed anything remarkable, but many argue that some of the most seeming insignificant events can turn out to be the most important. _

_Although Fernes acted as if he could drink any man under the table, the truth was that he could hardly hold his liquor. This was something Judith learned upon their first meeting and was a fact that he would never admit. It was then, during an inebriated attempt to mime a drunkenly slurred joke, Fernes whipped around and nearly toppled down on the floor. The scabbard that never left his side caught on the corner of rickety table, tangling him up and throwing numerous bits of collected artifacts to the ground. While nearly choking on her laugher, Judith helped him regain his balance and innocently suggested he remove his sword in order to prevent further mishap. Without a second thought, Fernes unstrapped the leather belt around his waist and leaned his beloved sabre in the corner, leaving himself to stumble freely there on after. _

"_Oh, how fortunate it is that you are immortal!" Judith laughed. "Any other man that dare step out onto a battle field in such a state wouldn't live past three breaths."_

_Fernes smiled, sloppily. "Yes, it does work towards my advantage. Look around! Look at the beginnings of my empire! Already men lay down their swords at the mere sound of my name!"_

"_It just shows how foolish the Narnians are! How could anyone defeat an invincible lord?"_

"_Fools! Great fools! Though sometimes I worry they aren't fools at all," he slurred. "If they were to know that I could only die by my own sword, they would surely send an agent to obtain it…..or an assassin to carry out the deed."_

_It was a sobering thought. _

_Their eyes slid to the sabre propped in the corner. The air was still. _

_Suddenly, Judith scrambled towards the sword as Fernes pounced, slamming her forcefully into a post. The tent shook violently as he batted her against the wall, holding her throat firmly with one hand while the other revealed a knife concealed inside of his boot. Judith clawed at the fingers tightly gripped around her neck, grunting and gasping, her surroundings swirling around her a rapid haze. _

_His alcohol soaked breath blew on her brow as his tongue sloshed about, licking his lips in anticipation. It would have been quicker and easier had he drugged the wine, but none of it was about making it quick or easy. It was about the game, and Judith had been a worthy opponent. But now, with one quick slice, he would render the Queen useless, leaving her King open for the taking. _

_Judith had stopped squirming. His hand jumped from her throat to her jaw in order to pry it open, but he paused at the sight of her gaping, helpless eyes. Clutching onto her face, his expression turned to a dissatisfied snarl. _

"_You give up so easy. Fight back!" he growled, throwing her to the floor. _

_The wind whistled outside as Judith lay on the floor still, defeated. The world seemed to slow down as Fernes' foot buried into her gut, once. And then twice. Her breath escaped her body, but she hardly noticed. She just remained on the floor, watching the taut canvas wall start to sway in the wind until sword toppled over and fell in her reach. She grit her teeth and quickly swept up the sword, lunging to her feet, swiping the blade through the air. _

_There was a thud and the air was still again. _

_Fernes' head rolled to her feet. His insides were filled with fossil and ash, and the particles blew up in the air like smoke when his body fell. Judith covered her face with her arm and began to cough. Loosing the strength to stand, she collapsed to her knees as the dust settled. She drew her arm back. There were spots of blood on her sleeve. _


	35. Chapter 35: The Light

_Chapter 35: The Light_

_Judith was overwhelmed with sickness. Fernes' cold, dead eyes stared right through her and she did her best to avoid looking at the grisly remains. There was no time to feel sorrow, shame, or pride. There was hardly enough time to think. It was her chance to escape, and she had to move quickly if she hoped to make it back to the Narnians. _

_She gathered up her supplies and turned to the door, but the searing burn of her cousin's stare made it impossible to leave. Her fingers trembled with a sudden madness and before she knew what she was doing, she found herself scrambling through the tent for something, although she wasn't sure what. With the discarded remnants of the purple gown in her hands, she threw the largest scrap over the lifeless head and wrapped it tightly._

"_If Peter is to believe me," she muttered, heaving the bundle over her shoulder, "then it is best to have proof."_

_The campfires outside were smoldering and everything was draped in a cold silence. Peeking out from the tent, Judith sighed with relief. Juggling the hastily made parcels, she stared off into the darkness and beyond the trees, anxious for their cover. The wind had calmed for a moment, but she could hear the faint rustling of leaves anticipating another blast. _

"_My Queen..." a single voice startled her._

_It was the General. He was stout and sturdy, armed with several blades and grimace that made him look like an overgrown toad. _

"_Have your festivities with the Invincible Lord come to an end?" he asked suspiciously._

_She drew her eyes away from the distance. "Yes. Yes they have."_

"_Then I must speak to Lord Fernes…"_

"_No! The Invincible Lord is indisposed and no one must disturb him!" she barked with authority, hoping that he wouldn't notice her panic. _

_The General squinted his beady eyes. "He informed me that the battle lines may change come morning and he has yet to disclose his plans..."_

"_Lord Fernes and I discussed those changes and you are to proceed as planned. And it is of the utmost importance that no one see him before the battle begins," she said sternly, attempting to look regal while fumbling with the hastily made parcels._

_He nodded in obedience, though he glanced skeptically at the goods in her arms. "If those are my Lord's wishes, then I will abide. But My Queen, where are you off to at such an hour?" _

_Judith grasped for a believable excuse. "I...I have a important meeting with the Calormenes."_

"_Then I shall escort you…"_

"_No!" she shouted, aware of the hysteria leaking though her voice. "The Tarkaans specified that I am to come alone. Besides, you look worse for wear. Our General must be well rested if he is to lead our army to victory..." _

"_Very well. But I expect you will be returning to command?" he asked, crossing his arms so that he looked like an immovable boulder. _

"_Of course," she lied. "Ready the troops in the morning and I will lead the front lines."_

"_We are fortunate to have such a valiant Queen," bowed the General as he slunk away back through the sleeping camp. _

**oOo**

_With no flame resilient against the swirling air, Judith found herself running through the darkness with the wind pushing her further and further into the unknown and sweeping her tracks from the soil. The canopy of leaves was so thick above that the path ahead of her looked as though it was spattered with black ink which trailed into an vast, empty abyss._

_When the wind calmed, the net of branches untangled from above, and she was able to stand still in the sprinkling of moonlight. She strained her eyes to get a glimpse of the stars, but she didn't know how to read the Narnian sky and so with an aggravated sigh, she gave up and scanned her immediate surroundings. Darkness. She could barely see five paces in front of her. After brushing her hair away from her sweaty brow, she reached for her supplies only to find that the small bindle had ripped during her turbulent escape. The only thing remaining inside was a single candle, but no means to light it. _

_Tears rolled down her smoldering cheeks. The other bundle dropped from her arms and landed in the soil with a thud. She fell to her knees and with her trembling fists, she pounded the ground in frustration and then hurled the candle away with all of her strength. Taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, she closed her eyes and hoped that when they opened she would find herself tucked into her bed back in England. _

_She peeled her eyes open slowly to find that the night sky had grown even darker. She felt around below searching for the heavy bundle and heaving the concealed remains to her chest, she held it tightly with a desperate tremble. Her mind raced, drifting further and further from sanity until her eyes suddenly caught a glimpse of a small flicker just ahead. _

_There was something peculiar about the tiny light and how it seemed to appear out of no where. And as small as it was, it shone brighter than it should have and radiated a warmth that beckoned the little hope left within her fragile body. Her mind went blank and she followed the glowing ember without question, crawling through fallen leaves and moist dirt, the pang of the occasional small, sharp stone grazing her skin. When she reached the light, she was surprised to find the solitary candle that she had discarded so carelessly. The wick was burning with a steady flame._

_She lifted the candle, observing its wonder, and when she raised her chin to see into the illuminated darkness, waiting for her was a regal stallion-Claymont's famed horse of incredible speed and undeniable stamina. Wearily, Judith approached and the horse knelt so that she could easily slip onto his back. Holding the candle with one hand and resting the heavy bundle on her thigh, the horse walked steadily down the path as though he knew where to take her. Judith rested her head on his silky mane and stared off into the unknown._


	36. Chapter 36: Sand, Crest, and Crown

Chapter 36: Sand, Crest, and Crown

_It was all too familiar. _

_Judith dismounted from the horse, the aches from her altercation fading with each step towards the light. The campfire burned with ferocity and the illumination cradled her with a soothing shine. She wondered if she was dreaming again. It all felt real, but it was illogical to believe (though everything she recognized as logical had been challenged since she fell into this foreign world). It was impossible that the horse could have traveled so far as to take her to the same site, same woods, same fire as the mysterious dream that propelled her into action. _

_The air smelled of hickory and pine, and for a moment, mineral oil ink. The glow of the flames turned the deepest darkness into light, as if the sun had been plucked from the sky and planted gently in the woods. She wondered if the great lion would appear again, but in the place where he stood in her dream, there was large chest adorned with gold filigree and the royal crest. Her fingers danced above it in anticipation, savoring the excitement she felt in the presence of the magic that brought her there. She was not sure what she would find within the chest, but when she heaved open the lid, she felt as though she could drown in the disappointment. The chest was filled with sand. _

_Sand. The tiny particles were cool to the touch as Judith raked her fingers along the surface, staring blankly into the ripples, watching them collapse in on themselves with every movement of her hand. She thought she might cry, but she had no more tears to spare. But as she brushed the sand aside, she felt something hard hidden beneath. She dug deeper and deeper into the chest (for it appeared to have more depth than one would assume) and uncovered piece upon piece of Narnian armor and a rich crimson standard. _

_It was then that she felt Aslan's presence. She could not see him, and her ears did not perk at the sound of his voice. But deep within her she knew that she was to return to fly Narnia's flag and do everything in her power to protect it. _

**oOo**_  
_

_Judith rode with ferocity back through the darkness of the woods, racing the rising sun. As she neared the camp, she watched through the mist of the new morning as the soldiers stirred and readied for the battle. It was then that she spied the Tarkaans moving along the horizon to retrieve their mute and packaged slave. At first she froze, but instead of the familiar pang in her stomach urging her to retreat, her courage dug her heels into the horse and took off towards them with a ferocious speed. _

_Dust kicked into the air with Judith's approach and the sound of the horse's hooves beating against the ground beckoned the Tarkaans to emerge from the unoccupied tent. At first they appeared enraged, as it seemed that their business partner failed to follow through with their arrangement, but their cowardice began to leak through their aggressive facade when the horse nearly trampled them as it skid to a stop. Before they could compose themselves, Judith raised Fernes' mangled head, holding it firmly from his dark, greasy hair, and brandishing it in such a way that the Tarkaans grew pale in fear (though they still puffed out their chests as they fumbled to unsheathe their scimitars). In a graceful motion, Judith lowered her flagstaff, revealing the blade of freshly sharpened halberd, halting the Tarkaans from drawing their swords. _

"_Leave now and tell your army that there will be no war," Judith said with authority and with a great feat of strength, she jammed Fernes' head atop the halberd's pike. "Relay this message to your Tisroc: any who dare oppose the High King will be damned to a similar fate!"_

_The Tarkaans exchanged glances, and after a final glare of contempt, they shuffled into a run back into the valley. A smile almost crept onto Judith's face, but then she turned to see the battle lines forming in the distance. With a deep breath, she unfurled the crimson standard and set off towards the troops._

**oOo**_  
_

Judith sat waiting for Peter's response. He had listened patiently, hardly making an expression throughout all of the grisly details, and though she had finished, he remained just as stoic. She fumbled with the string of woven flowers until the silence became too much to bear and it fell from her shaking hands, landing gently on the floor.

With underlying sigh, Peter rose from his seat and then scooped up the flowers at her feet. Carefully, he fiddled with the ribbon and tied the two ends together, turning the string into a wreath. Kneeling to see her eye to eye, he placed the delicate ring of flowers gently on her head and kissed her lightly. She threw her arms around his neck, holding him dearly and he pulled her closer, feeling the warm wetness of their intermingling tears on his cheek.

"They're probably wondering where we are," he said after a moment, wiping his eyes to appear composed. "I believe they've started the festivities without us."

Judith could hear the faint sound of music through the bedroom window. She peered out into the night at the twinkling lights below the castle and watched as a joyous crowd accumulated on the beach. Peter approached her from behind and sweeping her hair aside, he whispered in her ear. His words fluttered anxiously, but handsomely, and she turned to him slowly, meeting him with a smile.

From outside the door, quick hoof-steps clattered closer and closer until Iola burst through the door with her usual impetuousness. She was rattling on about how there was hardly any time to get Judith looking presentable, but when she noticed Peter, she dropped the parcels in her arms.

"Oh, oh, oh dear," she stammered, struggling to curtsy. "Your Majesty...I...I...I...Oh, dear! Oh dear!"

Peter lowered his head, trying to contain his laughter. "My gravest apologies, Iola. This is a most improper predicament."

The faun looked as though she was about to burst.

"I'll take my leave," he said, bowing to Judith formally and kissing her hand.

"Out, out, out!" Iola hurried him, too overwhelmed to worry about the consequences of speaking out of turn. "I have a lot of work to do!"

Flashing a boyish smirk, Peter allowed Iola to finally shove him over the threshold, and barricading the door with her stout, little body, she heaved a deep breath. Resuming her duties, she collected the parcels that had scattered across the floor.

"Now, let's see which of these new dresses matches that silly grin you're wearing."


	37. Chapter 37: The Great Cormorant

Chapter 37: The Great Cormorant

A band of flutes sung an airy melody, drawing the triumphant Narnians to the beach at the foot of the castle. Some joined the music with a steady hum, while others danced merrily around a large fire contained within a pit stacked with stone and terracotta. Candles were planted within tiny jars and tucked back into patches of grass that skirted the dunes, making flickering paths that, along with the fireflies, made it seem as though the land had merged with the stars. Peter breathed in the spirit of the celebration as he watched from beneath the great arch entry to the castle, purposefully hanging back in the shadows so as not to be swarmed by the gracious greetings of his subjects. He was no stranger to fanciful Narnian parties- from grand galas and bewildering balls to beasts feasts and gatherings on the shore- and while this particular gathering was awe-inspiring in both aesthetics and heart, there was something else of great importance that required his presence.

Judith hustled through the great hall and out through the arch, trying her best not to trip over her new, delicate gown. It was unlike any garment she had ever seen and she took to it quickly, adoring the collage of silk and satin ropes stitched together with golden thread. She wondered why Iola had been hesitant to give her the dress, first making her try on more traditional attire that felt far too stuffy for the events of the evening. But eventually the Faun pulled the patchwork gown from behind the dressing screen, and upon seeing Judith glow from within it, Iola's eyes became wet and she said, "May He wait at dawn." Judith was puzzled by the phrase, but she felt so moved by the sentiment that she threw her arms around Iola, surprising the her with the warm gesture.

Peter watched Judith's approach and couldn't contain his smile. She looked overwhelmed and flushed, but as soon as she stepped into the open air, a cool breeze fluttered through the tangles on her shoulders and her eyes grew wide with wonder at the scene that lay ahead. So engrossed by her surroundings, she didn't notice him in the darkness and let out a gasp when he plucked her from the light.

"Did I startle you?" he asked, drawing her closer.

She let out a huff, and playfully pounded her fists against his chest. He chuckled and then pulled her into an embrace.

"We'll take the secret trail," he whispered.

"But what about the party? Shouldn't you attend?"

My time is yours now," he said, taking her hand and pulling her along.

A light shone from the mouth of the path, and when they could see through the gleam, they were surprised to find Claymont standing aside the brush. He was holding a brilliant, brass nautical lantern that housed a spherical, golden flame.

"I thought you could use this," he shouted to them, raising the lantern.

Judith looked over at Peter with concern. He met her tentative eyes with an encouraging smile, and upon the approval she gathered her skirt, running hastily towards her friend.

"I was afraid I'd never see you again!" she exclaimed, nearly suffocating him with a frantic hug.

"I wouldn't have made it out alive if it weren't for you," he grinned.

She loosened her grip and her expression grew troubled as she examined the wounds on his face. "Look what they've done. Look what _I've_ done…."

"None of that," he comforted her, meeting her eyes for the first time since his rescue. "I used to live solely through the stories of others, and now you've given me one of my own."

Before Judith could lament further, Peter stepped up and grasped Claymont's hand, giving it a hearty shake. "I'm glad to see that you've made it back to land so quickly," he said, changing the subject.

Relieved, Claymont broke his gaze with Judith. "Shortly after your messenger arrived, I boarded a dinghy in hopes that I could extend my congratulations in person. This lantern was said to be the brightest lamp on the Dawn Treader. I've had it in my possession for quite some time, but it belongs in the hands of royalty. After all, it was used by your cousin, Lady Judith- King Caspian X. I promise it will light your way through the darkest darks you may ever encounter."

"Thank you, Admiral. It is a most generous gift," graciously said Peter.

Judith kissed Claymont gently on his cheek, and she felt him linger, taking in her essence for a final moment before letting her go and handing the lantern to the High King.

"You should be on your way," said Claymont with a bow. "Your Majesty, Lady Judith- May He wait at dawn."

**oOo**

It is Narnian tradition that the ceremonial marriage walk commence after nightfall, and the bride and groom travel the path together until sunrise. While its origins remain a mystery, the act is said to symbolize the departure of a great journey into the unknown and the emergence into a new beginning together. Though the ritual is practiced throughout Narnia, legend states that when royalty marries, Aslan will meet the pair at dawn if the union is just. His absence forewarns against the pairing, protecting the throne from those who enter in marriage without the nation's best interests in mind. It has been debated greatly how Aslan manifests- whether the Great Lion physically joins them or the sun beams with an ethereal glow (or other celestial signs). Some even believe the bliss felt in the heart is Aslan's presence. Interpretation rests on how conservative one remains to the old magic, and history even tells of bloodlines that have petered out as a result of kings and queens with numerous marriage attempts because Aslan never appeared to sanctify the wedding. For these reasons, Narnians often forgo saying "Congratulations" to a couple about to wed and instead offer the words, "May He wait at dawn".

**oOo**

With lantern in hand, Peter and Judith walked side by side along the beach. They kicked off their shoes to feel the soft sand beneath their feet, and the crashing waves licked their ankles as they danced together in the sea foam. The night stretched before them, and even Peter couldn't place how far or how long they had been traveling. They were lost like children (as Judith had fondly called it) and for the first time since their arrival, the High King found himself feeling care-free.

When the sky began to brighten, it took them by surprise. It was as if they had forgotten that mornings even existed, and the new light revealed a vast trail of footprints stretching behind them.

"Oh Peter, look how far we've come! The castle is but a speck back there," Judith exclaimed as she playfully dropped to the ground. "I'm suddenly so very tired. Let's rest, just for a moment."

"Just for a moment," he replied, kneeling down next to her.

She rested her head on his shoulder and holding her close, they watched the sky turn a myriad of gold and amber. He kissed her cheek and was content in the moment. He thought about how poets long to capture similar moments in whimsical verses and how painters try to recreate them romantically on canvas. But he knew how to contain their moment and it made him feel wise and strong and brave. The earth could shatter beneath him, the sky could collapse over him, the ocean could swallow him up- and he could have endured any of it as long as she was his wife.

The sea glistened with the approaching sun and Peter held his breath, looking off towards the horizon. Judith had dozed off, draped over him in a deep slumber and he hesitated to wake her, only watching her chest heave slow, peaceful breaths. Realizing that it had been a full day since he had last slept, he shook his head to dismiss the drowsy haze settling over him. But despite his efforts, his eyelids grew heavy and he could not fight to stay awake any longer.

**oOo**

Peter woke to find that the brilliant sun of the morning had gone into hiding. The sky was smeared with thick grey clouds and atmosphere felt stale and damp. The tide had fallen back and a flock of gulls noisily scavenged the shore for tasty remains. Their squawks rung in Peter's ears, but to his surprise, Judith did not stir. Bunching his cloak together, he gently placed it under her head and slipped away.

"You there, Gulls. You wouldn't happen to know the time?" Peter asked, casually approaching the quick paced birds.

They snapped their heads towards him in a frozen stance.

"Well?"

"Time? Time? Time? Time? Time?" they cawed in disharmony before their attention was captured by a crab shuffling along the sand.

"My mistake," grumbled Peter as they mobbed over their new prey.

"Time is but a creation of man that most birds can't be bothered with. So you won't get much from them," a coarse voice said from behind. "But no one usually can either way."

Peter turned to find a Great Cormorant sitting perched atop a piece of driftwood with his wings spread wide.

"You look lost, King Peter," the bird said, tipping his beak.

"I suppose I am…" Peter sighed.

"That's easy to resolve," replied the Cormorant. "Just go back from where you came."

Looking over his shoulder at Judith, Peter tried to find the right words. "I mean...I just thought He would be here."

"How do you know He's not?"

"That sounds like something Lucy would say," Peter grinned. "Among other things, I was just hoping I could ask Him something."

The bird cocked his head curiously as birds often do. "And what would that be?"

Peter paused, staring out beyond the sea. "I never expected to see Narnia again. I just wanted to know why I have returned when I was told I never would…"

"Have you?" asked the Cormorant and suddenly his words shook the world for an instant until it all faded to black.

With a gasp, Peter opened his eyes.

He was home in his bed as though he had never left England.


	38. Chapter 38: The Least of Things

Chapter 38: The Least of Things With a Meaning

_The least of things with a meaning is worth more in life than the greatest of things without it. - Carl Jung_

"Look who's finally up," said Edmund as he sat on his bed unlacing his dress shoes.

Shallow breaths shook Peter's entire body and he jolted up from under his sheets. Looking around the room frantically, his mind raced and he grit his teeth, trying to make sense of his sudden departure but dismissing the most rational of explanations.

"We just got back from church. Mum thought it best to let you rest," Edmund continued loosening his tie. "Are you okay? You look a bit flustered."

The burning sensation in his gut calmed as Peter oriented himself to his surroundings, and he looked up to meet the concerned eyes staring down at him. "Ed- I'm going to sound mad, but I was just in Narnia..."

"What?"

"Narnia!"

"I heard you," Edmund quieted him, shutting the bedroom door. "You mean you dreamt of Narnia?"

"No. I was there. I swear to you, it was real."

"That seems improbable," his brother replied quite matter-of-factly. "Not that we haven't experienced the strangest of occurrences, but I'm fairly certain that you've been here all night."

"Judith and I went up to the roof in the middle of the night, and the storm carried us off," Peter explained.

Edmund's face twisted in confusion. "How did you manage to get up on the roof? Do we have a ladder that tall?"

"No, no, no," Peter snapped in frustration. "The door in the attic."

"Impossible. I sealed that up weeks ago," Edmund said watching his brother's face turn pale.

"What?"

Edmund hung his jacket over the post of his bed before having a second thought and fetching a hanger from the closet. "Don't you remember that old Mrs. Pratt down the street was burgled and the thief broke in through the attic? Mum had me go up there and board it up as a safety precaution."

Peter swallowed his brother's words and then leapt out of bed and ran through the house. Rolling his eyes, Edmund followed and they raced down the hall, climbed into the dusty attic, and darted to the rickey ladder that led to the roof. To Peter's dismay, the little door was fastened shut and tightly nailed, just as Edmund described. And no matter how Peter pushed or pulled or pounded, the door would not budge.

"Impossible," Peter muttered as he slunk down and sat on the ladder's bottom rung.

"That's what I said," replied Edmund, sounding far more crass than intended.

"It couldn't have been a dream. It was so vivid. It was real."

"I don't know," shrugged Edmund. "You had a trying day yesterday. Maybe your mind just needed to escape or tell you something. I read about it in a book by a Swiss psychiatrist. Residual images, repressed memories, and unconscious desires and the like."

"But what about magic, Ed?" Peter suggested with a spark of hope. "Magic turned a wardrobe into woods, a train platform into the shore, a painting into the sea….surely magic could break through your piss-poor carpentry."

"My carpentry is just fine! Rough around the edges, that's all," huffed his younger brother.

"You know what I mean."

Edmund's brow furrowed, and attempting to disguise the slight quiver in his voice, he turned from his brother. "But why would Aslan summon you back and not the rest of us?"

"I never got a chance to ask," Peter answered. "Though there was the Cormorant…"

"A cormorant? Peculiar birds, aren't they?" Edmund mused. "Excellent divers, though they weren't made for it. They have to swallow pebbles to remain heavy enough to stay under water. Imagine that- a bird taking those kind of measures to accomplish what didn't seem possible."

"He did seem rather optimistic," noted Peter, remembering his interaction with the bird the best he could.

"I'd imagine so. After all, they don't hesitate. They just jump in and hope for the best," said Edmund.

Peter always recognized Edmund's sage advice. Though he was younger, Peter admired the way his brother could find the hidden meaning in anything, whether or not he realized it. With a new well of inspiration, Peter energetically hopped to his feet, throwing Edmund off guard.

"Ed-Do you have the time?"

"About half past..." Edmund replied, showing his watch.

"It's Sunday?"

"All day"

"Maybe there's still time," Peter panicked, rushing out from the attic.

"What now?" Edmund groaned, sick of chasing his brother about but compelled to follow.

Returning to their room, Peter hastily dressed and pulled a suitcase from underneath the bed. Taking neatly folded clothing out of drawers and nicely pressed garments off of hangers, he stuffed them carelessly into the bag. Edmund watched curiously, trying to decipher his brother's behavior.

"What are you doing?" Edmund asked, cringing at the way his brother manhandled a wool suit.

"Diving in," Peter replied with a slight smile.

With a quick flick, he fastened the suitcase and rightened it by the handle. Putting his hand on Edmund's shoulder, he tilted his head and glanced at him from under a furrowed brow. Edmund recognized the gesture, though he hadn't seen in a while. It was a look that signified that _Peter knows best despite what he, or Susan, or Lucy thinks. _It was a look that was almost unbearable, but still a look that could not be crossed.

"I think it's best if we kept this all to ourselves," Peter said, implementing the forcefulness of the infamous glare. "If I don't return tonight, just tell Mum and the girls that I've gone off for a few days to clear my head. "

"Right," Edmund nodded reluctantly. "But honestly, where are you going?"

Peter began to laugh. "I haven't a clue."

**oOo**

The station was bustling as passengers made their way towards different platforms, crisscrossing and zigzagging to their trains. Peter carried his suitcase, darting through pockets of people, keeping his head up and scanning over the crowd until he found who he was looking for.

"Jude! Jude!"

Hearing her name above the blanket noise, Judith turned and spotted Peter waving his hand and pushing through a cluster of men preoccupied with their newspapers.

"Peter? What are you doing? My train is about to board."

"Just wait," he pleaded, partly out of breath.

A conductor called over the crowd and she began to gather her belongings. "I waited all day yesterday."

He took her hand, forcing her to set down trunks as a flurry of people shoved past them. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But you need to stop for just a minute."

"What is it?" she asked, noticing the concern on his face.

He had so much to say, but in the chaos of the platform, he was unable to collect his thoughts and so he blurted out, "Did you have any strange dreams last night?"

"I'm going to miss my train!" she huffed, her patience running thin as she tried to collect her luggage up again.

"Wait, wait, wait," he said, stepping into her path. "Can you postpone your trip?

"It's a little late."

"Marry me."

He stared at her with a great intensity, waiting for her response. The words filled her head like water in a fishbowl and they sloshed around until she felt dizzy. "What?" she muttered, unsure if she heard him correctly.

"Postpone your trip and marry me. We'll go somewhere and elope."

"Is that possible?"

"If it's not, we'll make it right when you return. I dreamed that I nearly lost you-but it was much more than a dream. And now I can't bear the thought of you leaving before I make my vows. It wasn't my intention to do it this way, but I have a strange feeling that if we don't do it now, we won't get another chance."

"I'll only be gone for a year…"

"I know your father disapproves. He has his own plans for you in the works. What if he makes arrangements for you? What if you don't come back?"

"Peter, don't be silly…"

"Marry me, Judith," he said, pulling his grandmother's ring from his pocket. "I love you."

She looked at the ring and then at him, and he felt helpless. All he could do was stand there and wait for her to answer. The conductor made the final call for boarding and the train's whistle screeched.

It took a few beats, but she finally spoke. "There's a second excursion leaving next week. I'll notify the program director to expect me with the second group. Go make your arrangements and meet me back here as soon as you can.

"So that's a yes?" he smiled anxiously.

"Of course, Peter. I love you far more than you'll ever realize. But I can only do this on one condition: it must remain a secret for the time being. My father is likely to cut me off if he finds out so we'll have to treat this as a delicate matter. It'll be best if we wait to tell him until I return. And if we are to do this in secret, it must be a secret from everyone…even your family. Word travels quickly and if it were to get out while I am away, I could lose everything."

"Then it will be our secret," he assured her. "I didn't tell anyone, but I've been offered an editorial position that will nearly triple my salary. When you get home, you won't have to be a slave to a trust fund anymore. It'll be modest living at first, but I promise I'll give you everything you could ever want."

Judith leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his lips. "I know you'll take care of me."


	39. Chapter 39: Ring and Pendant

Chapter 39: Ring and Pendant

Professor Kirke sat in his armchair with a newspaper in hand. He had been lounging there for a good fifteen minutes, his eyes scanning the same paragraph over and over. He folded the paper neatly and sat it down on his lap. His mind was elsewhere, rehashing the conversation with his former student and remembering the plucky adolescents sitting in his study. Even then he saw something between Peter and Judith, noticing the way the boy hung on her every word and how frequent the girl's cheeks would turn a subtle shade of red. And while the news had come as a surprise (and Peter's request for help as even more of a shock), Digory was a romantic at heart and understood the urgency of young love as well as the consequences of hesitation. He knew Peter to be sensible, and so rather than challenge the young man's judgement, he agreed to do what he could and sought out a favor from a friend in the clergy.

Away at a tiny chapel tucked in country, Peter plucked a handful of dandelions from beside an overgrown gate and handed them to Judith. She placed the largest flower behind her ear and pinned another to his lapel. They wore the nicest garments they had in their suitcases and bought a pair of plain wedding bands at a pawnbroker along the way. Professor Kirke agreed to make formal introductions to his friend the vicar, and while they waited for his arrival, Peter pulled a folded napkin from his jacket pocket and offered Judith bits of bread crust saved from lunch to toss to an dawdling flock of geese. She chuckled at the very idea of stale crumbs lining his pockets on their wedding day.

Upon seeing the earnest nature of the couple, the vicar agreed to overlook the reading of the banns, but the paperwork proved to be tricky. Not wanting to disappoint Peter with the pending legality of it all, Judith took it upon herself to forge the documents. It was against her better judgement, but the spontaneity was invigorating and she assured herself that a formal wedding upon her return would tie all of the loose ends.

The ceremony was short, but satisfactory. There was a moment when the vicar forgot their names, but it hardly mattered. They were alive in the moment, hearing the words but remaining more in tune with the warmth of each other's hands and the pounding heartbeats from within their chests. Peter spoke his vows confidently and flawlessly, but Judith feared stumbling over her words. She did.

The secrecy of the event made the day surreal in its simplicity. The usual fuss was eliminated, and for a mere second Judith felt slightly disappointed. This was quickly alleviated upon Professor Kirke's announcement that he had a cake waiting for them back at his house and the couple graciously accepted his invitation before venturing back to their room at the inn.

They walked together down a rural path, one they recognized from their summer there years ago. It didn't appear to have changed all too much, aside from the slight sprinkling of orange throughout the treetops. In fact, they agreed that it was quite wondrous to be in the same place with the same company, yet knowing everything was slightly different. Peter held on to Judith's hand, his thumb fiddling with the new metal band on her finger, and she pulled his arm close, resting her head on his shoulder. There was a comforting familiarity in it all. They had done this before (or at least Peter had), but instead of the anxiety of the impending dawn, there was a sense of peace in the realization that the final decision was theirs and theirs alone.

"You're not wearing your boots…" Peter commented, looking down at her feet. "I knew there was something different about you."

"Oh, is that what it is?" she teased, batting her lashes and playfully pinching his side.

"That's not what I meant," he laughed. "You certainly look radiant today, but you're always lovely. I've just hardly ever seen you without your boots."

"I can't find them," she shrugged. "They must be packed away in a trunk, although I swear I had them the night before we left."

Peter stopped mid-step. "Are you sure you didn't have any strange dreams?"

"I don't know," she smiled. "I've told you before, I hardly remember my dreams."

"Fair enough..." he said, continuing down the path into a clearing.

"Please do not tell me all of this is a dream," said Judith as she placed a kiss on his cheek. "And if it is, I hope never to wake. Everything has been so wonderful, I couldn't stand forgetting it all."

"I promise you won't forget anything."

The field before them was glowing in the sienna of the sunset and the wind blew the tall grass in such a way that it bent like waves. Judith pulled her new husband close and a hare dashed through the mess of weeds, nearly brushing their ankles as they sank to the ground in a tight embrace. Enveloped and intertwined, the potency of the moment engulfed them until the sun ducked below the horizon and all they could feel was warm breath, soft skin, and the occasion thistle poking into their sides.

**oOo**

Time is a curious thing. It refuses to yield to one's desires, always adamant about doing quite the opposite. There is no coercing time, or catching it, or taming it to bend to the will of man. It moves at its own steady pace (a standard pace, so they say) and yet it manages to drag out the most excruciating instances and speed through the ones worth holding on to. So in the spirit of wanting to savor every moment, time raced until Peter and Judith found themselves departing at the station, desperately trying to hold onto each fleeting minute before they faded into the past.

"I won't go," she declared.

"You have to," he insisted.

"I don't have to do anything. I won't go."

"It's a once in a lifetime opportunity."

"To hell with it…"

Peter cupped her hands within his. "No, you've worked far too hard for this. I couldn't live with myself if I stopped you now. I'll be here when you get back."

"Oh, I wish you could come with me!"

Her eyes began to well with tears and he held her firmly against his chest.

"You said it yourself, it's only a year," he comforted her. "And while you're away I'll start to carve a life for us here. You'll see."

The train whistled and the conductor called for boarding. Judith wiped her eyes and reached back to unhook the clasp of her necklace. She then gently pulled Peter's wedding band from his finger and slipped it onto the chain. The ring clanked against the golden pendant as she leaned in and fastened it around his neck, lingering for a moment before letting go. Peter tucked the chain within his shirt and drew her near again.

Her body quivered. "If I don't go now, I'm afraid I'll never leave."

With final kiss, Peter watched her turn and slip beyond the unfamiliar bodies weaving from platform to platform. She promised she would write and she made him promise not to say the word 'goodbye'. He could still see her passing through the railcars, but only slightly. Placing his hand on his chest, he felt the ring and pendant resting over his heart.

Judith took a seat by a window and tried to focus her mind on the journey she faced. It was only the beginning and it would be long and she would be alone. Yearning to be soothed, she reached for her necklace only to remember that it was another thing she was leaving it behind. Her breath grew short with the heat of panic rolling under her ribcage and she closed her eyes. With a sudden realization, she turned to the window and frantically slid her hands along the glass to open it. As the train began to plod forward, she shouted over the noise of the station, hoping Peter would hear his name. Among the many faces shuffling through the platform, Peter jumped into the air, waving and shoving through the mass of travelers. He put his hand to his ear, beckoning her to speak.

"I think I remember part of my dream!" she called out to him. "There was a lion!"

The train gained some speed as it pulled away and she looked back at Peter who had been caught in the crowd. A great smile filled his face and he reached out to her as if his arm could span the entire track. She did the same until she lost sight of him and the station and the world she knew. And then settling down in her seat, she looked at the scenery ahead. She was on her own.


	40. Chapter 40: Epilogue

Epilogue

It was early in the evening on Christmas Eve when Susan heard a knock at the door.

"Again?" she groaned as she sat at the kitchen table, contemplating whether or not to answer.

She was sick of visitors, sick of flowers, sick of holiday invitations, and most of all sick of condolences. Nothing made her more furious than when people spoke to her through breathy sighs, saying "I know how you feel" as they talked about some grandmother that had passed away in her sleep or some friend of a friend who lost a brother in the war. They most certainly did not know how she felt, nor could they begin to imagine it. The invitations for Christmas dinner were almost as bad. Though she knew they were kind-spirited gestures, the last thing she wanted to do was go watch another family parade about happily together, taunting her with peace and laughter while she was quite certain that she would never smile in that way again. Susan wanted to pretend that Christmas did not exist and she sat there wondering if it was too late to turn out the lights in order to dissuade the person outside. She stayed unmoving in hopes that they would turn away, but the knocking remained persistent.

"Fine, fine, fine!" she growled, throwing herself off of the chair.

She marched to the door (the knocking getting more impatient by the second) and flung it open angrily. The cold air blew against her face and just as she was about to holler, her words escaped her upon seeing the woman waiting on her doorstep.

"Judith?"

"Hello Susan," Judith replied with a bulky basket of groceries almost toppling out of her arms. She was bundled from the winter chill by a thick wool coat that seemed too large for her narrow shoulders and a tightly knit scarf knotted at her chin.

"What are you doing here?" asked Susan with a great hesitation.

"I have a proposal for you."

Susan furrowed her brow warily. "What is it?"

"I have just seen my father and he has been struck with enough compassion that…"

"No," Susan crassly interrupted. "I thank you for the invitation, but I certainly won't be spending Christmas with your family."

"What? No, no," stuttered Judith, biting her lip and trying to regain composure. "Actually, due to the poor decisions I have made as of late, my father and his wife thought it was in their best interest to disown me."

Susan's face softened. "Oh, I'm sorry…"

"Please don't waste your sympathy on me," she insisted, struggling to hold up the heavy basket any longer. "My father has giving me a fairly large endowment and I was thinking that you possibly couldn't afford to live in this house on your own."

Skeptically, Susan crossed her arms and looked at her feet, spotting a worn suitcase suitcase sitting on the stoop. "You want to live here?"

"I will pay for every expense," Judith replied earnestly.

"I can't let you do that…"

"Yes you can. Please, I have no where else to go." Judith's face twitched as she tried to smile, fighting against the cold and the unfortunate circumstances that forced her to beg on a doorstep.

With a large sigh, Susan took the groceries from her visitor's wobbling arms. "Oh, come in before you catch your death."

Judith carried her suitcase into the warmth and happy that she made it over the threshold, she shut the door behind her in victory. With groceries in hand, Susan rushed off into the pantry, leaving her guest alone in the hall. As Judith tugged at the fingers of her gloves with her teeth, she recognized a pile of unopened letters carelessly stacked among a mess of mail on a cluttered side table.

"I thought you were in Italy," said Susan over the noise of cabinet doors and drawers opening on their hinges and then banging shut.

"I was. I'm not anymore," answered Judith as she knocked aside a few papers and inconspicuously fanned through the envelopes. All were addressed to Peter and all were unanswered letters postmarked from the _Comune di Pompei_. She remembered eagerly waiting to hear from him for over a month, wondering if his replies had been lost in transit.

"I didn't know how to get a hold of you….otherwise, I would have let you know about the funeral."

"Don't worry yourself. I've only just been able to arrive back a few days ago."

Judith idly wandered into the living room, unwrapping the scarf from around her neck. Everything in the Pevensies' house was the same as when she left except it had become eerily empty. The home felt like it was in a state of constant anticipation, as though at any time the rest of the family could come barreling through the door. The rooms, once bustling with energy, were still and reserved like an elaborate set mimicking a moment of the past.

She walked slowly along the walls, running her eyes over every object as she would a museum exhibit. This place, though familiar, had become strangely foreign. Every surface was scattered with vases of wilted flowers and votive candles burned down to a final bit of wick. And then up on a shelf she spotted a photograph of Peter. It was a picture that Judith had seen many times in passing- it was the same as it had always been, in the same spot, and in the same frame. She studied his eyes, the slope of his nose, the curve of his upper lip, and her heart began to pound violently in her chest. Frantically, she slammed the frame down on its face.

"Since you're here now, maybe you can shed some light on this for me," said Susan from behind. "They gave it to me at the morgue."

Startled, Judith turned to find Susan holding an old necklace- a golden pendent strung on a chain and a wedding ring kissed up against it. The very sight made her feel ill. Snatching it quickly, she balled it up in her hand and forced it deep within her coat pocket. "We planned to tell everyone once I was home."

"Is it legal?" Susan asked with a raised brow.

"Yes," answered Judith solemnly . "My father made sure of it...as a final courtesy."

"That explains some inquires I've received regarding 'the betrothed of the deceased.'"

"There's something else…"

Judith readied herself to speak, but then nervously bumped into an end table, sending a vase crashing to the floor. Porcelain and dry flowers laid at her feet in a pool of stagnant water and she threw herself onto the ground, tending to the mess with embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry! I'm so clumsy!" she squealed as Susan hurried to the kitchen to retrieve a towel.

Getting down on her hands and knees, Susan began sopping up the water and suddenly started to sob. "I couldn't bring myself to throw all of the flowers away. If I throw them away then it means that the funeral wasn't just yesterday and I'll have to start to move on. I'm just not ready! It's too much!"

"Come here," said Judith softly, reaching over the puddle to cradle Susan's head against her shoulder. "You take your time and don't let anyone tell you to hurry up. You have every right to feel the way you do- don't you dare be ashamed of it. Sometimes we just need the world to stop."

Susan cried into the collar of Judith's coat until her tears dried up, and when she quieted, she lifted her head. "I miss them terribly."

"So do I," replied Judith as she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and placed it in Susan's hands.

"Thank you," Susan muttered, blotting her eyes dry. "I'm sorry for always being so rude to you."

"All of that is in the past and it doesn't matter anymore."

Susan picked herself off of the floor and offering Judith a hand, helped her guest to her feet. "Where are my manners? May I take your coat?"

Judith's face turned flush and she smiled uneasily. At first she hesitated as if she was about to speak, but then nothing came of it. After fiddling with the twill on her lapel, she delicately unbuttoned her coat, slid it off of her shoulders, and handed it to Susan. No longer concealed by thick wool, it became apparent that she was with child, though only just noticeably.

Susan drew her hand to her mouth. "Are you…?"

Judith swallowed hard and nodded.

Dropping the garment onto the floor, Susan threw her arms around Judith and held her tightly as she welled up with tears. "If only Peter could..."

"Please don't," Judith snapped as her body tensed.

Susan backed away, surprised and saddened by the adverse reaction. Without any words, she knelt over the fallen coat, slipped her hand into the pocket, and pulled out the necklace stuffed inside. Peter's wedding ring slipped down the chain as she loosened the tangles and Judith's gaze rested low to avoid contact with the artifact. The necklace hung gracefully in Susan's gentle hands, and with outstretched arms, she fastened it around Judith's neck.

With her eyes wet, Judith tightened her lips and adjusted her dress, smoothing the creases over her bulging abdomen. She clenched her jaw and ran her fingers once along the chain, feeling the weight of the ring dangling against her chest. Raising her chin, her voice warbled as she retreated into the kitchen. "I think it's about time that we start dinner."

"Go on, I'll be right with you," Susan responded in a faint mumble, noticing the hole within the line of family photographs on the shelf. She reached over and carefully righted the picture of Peter, wondering if her older brother was watching over them.

Suddenly, everything didn't seem so impossible.

* * *

**Author's Note: Many thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read and review this story. I truly appreciate the support and input. Please keep an eye out for the upcoming sequel. -Hev**


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